There are those days -- and it's just as well they're few and far between -- when you just don't feel like doing things. 'Things' you're accustomed to doing, take pleasure in, look forward to, plan part of your day around, but one particular day it seems you would just prefer not to. And that was yesterday. When blasting wind gusts and the high temperature for the afternoon wouldn't budge above -11C, and even the presence of the sun couldn't change your mind. Just a mite too inclement.

So, we stayed home. And we reveled in it. The wind gusted mercilessly, swaying trees, swiping what was left of the snow off branches, and the cold persisted, though the sun did too, warming the house interior through our large west-facing windows. Jackie and Jillie were restless, wanting to go out to the backyard continually, but never for very long. Too cold. The presence of the sun tricked them.

So they relaxed right alongside us. Played with one another. Asked for treats. Played with their toys. Rooted about in the laundry room where we keep containers of toques, mittens, scarves and their winter wardrobe because it also serves as a 'mud room' with direct access outside via a side door and another into the garage. And out of those containers some prizes were discovered; one of my socks for winter wear under boots, one of my husband's wool peaked caps. And before we knew it, the cap had been ravaged but the sock was rescued. Their toys aren't quite as interesting.

But today turned out an irresistible day for a ramble through the woodland trails and off we went after my husband returned from the library and I had finished my baking and cleaning routine for the day. The wind, as it happened, was even more violent than it had been the day before. The temperature had soared all the way to -6C, and with the constancy of the warming February sun, a much more agreeable atmosphere ensued.

The trails are in excellent shape, good and firm footing to be had even slogging uphill. The creek is frozen, and much of the ice is covered with snow, though in the middle you can still see that this is indeed a creek running through a forested ravine. This morning, in the backyard, my husband heard a cardinal. Last night, we went up to bed late, after midnight, and there on the porch was a tiny mouse scrabbling to find bits of leftover nuts that we set out for the squirrels.

A lovely day this has been indeed, and others in the greater community appeared to think so as well. Normally we may come across one, or several others out and about in the woods usually with a dog companion, but today there must have been at least eight people being taken out for a spin on the forest trails by their winter-enthusiastic dogs. Mostly people we've never before seen. And by extension the presence of the dogs was a new meeting experience for Jackie and Jillie, too.

I always keep my little digital camera close at hand, and for good reason. I'm a compulsive picture-taker, and so many opportunities arise to take photos, I simply cannot resist. From seeing a dog new to my acquaintance wearing a lovely winter coat that he's grown into all by himself with a little endowment from nature, to the sun burning fiercely through the winter landscape of frozen tree trunks. I snap here and there, constantly.

We'll remember, before we go upstairs to bed tonight, no matter what time it is, to lay out something for that energetic, unafraid little mouse, even if it's just oatmeal flakes. It was so incredibly cold last night, at -20C, and that minuscule creature was out there, foraging for food. And then you think of the birds, how they manage to endure such cold, but they do, fluffing their feathers around them to create warming air pockets, and then they sleep away the night hours, prepared to greet the dawn with their beautiful songs.