After yesterday's snowfall, there was about 5cm of snow covering everything. During the night freezing rain fell. In the morning we discovered that the slippery, icy areas in the backyard had been modified by the snow and freezing rain. It was possible to get a grip on the ice; it was partially denaturized. That the sun came out in late morning and the temperature rose to 1C, would be a further aid to negotiating the icy conditions in the ravine, we reasoned.

Taking Jackie and Jillie out for walks on our neighbourhood streets just isn't the same as strolling through the woodland trails. There are no cars and buses zipping along the street in the ravine. There are no mechanical sounds, the smells of exhaust, the visuals of concrete and metal. Of course, now that everything is locked down during this novel coronavirus situation, not many cars zip along any street; they remain mostly parked in driveways and garages. As for the buses, those that come by, from the double-deckers to the linked buses, they carry so few passengers one wonders why they're continuing to operate.

We set off, strapping our cleats over our boots and Jackie and Jillie booted against the ice and loose, wet snow. Just as we began our descent into the ravine, we saw two teen-age girls sliding downhill and hanging on to tree trunks. They weren't equipped with cleated boots, and they quite obviously weren't having a good time. We told them conditions were sure to improve tomorrow, with milder weather expected, and it might be too dangerous for them to proceed. They agreed, gingerly made their way back to the top of the hill, thanked us, and went off elsewhere.

Our descent was one requiring concentration, to say the least. The ice was nowhere near as glassy and hard with the newfallen snow slopped over it, and it was clear from the condition of the snow that others had been along before us with their dogs, hoping to make a decent attempt in a woodland walk. We could see how they managed, here and there, by the visual evidence in slides we encountered, where the ice was fully revealed as people fell or slid downhill.

My husband is far more confident than I am in these conditions. He always offers to help me, but I'm adamant that he's got to look after himself; distracted with looking after my welfare as well as his, he's more liable to fall himself. I'd re-injured my right shoulder a few days back and wasn't thrilled with the thought of falling again and making it even worse, so I proceeded slowly and carefully, grasping tree trunks now and again if I felt particularly vulnerable.

Jackie nnd Jillie were just fine negotiating their way downhill and uphill and they too were sliding in places, though doing so hardly bothered them, they're pretty low to the ground. We could proceed with a measure of relief whenever we were on flat ground, but with the caution that slips and falls occur on flat areas where ice is occasionally harder and more inclined to take us by surprise. Quite obviously, our initial optimism had been somewhat misplaced.

Despite yesterday's snowfall, which really didn't amount to all that much, there are now widely visible areas on the forest floor where the snow is fast receding. Where the snow still adhered to the ice we could appreciate far less of a threat to our balance. We had proceeded quite a way through our usual long circuit along the forest trails and arrived at a halfway point, where another ravine entrance is located, some distance streetwise from our own neighbourhood.

The very thought of completing the circuit and in some part exposing ourselves yet again to the difficulties of the areas we had already traversed did anything but appeal to me. On the return we would be going downhill in difficult areas of the hillsides where we had originally struggled to go uphill. Descending can be more fraught with danger than ascending in such conditions. So we decided to exit the ravine at that point and continue on, walking on the street, where a network of streets would eventually return us to a main intersection and from there we could make our way home.

That part of our journey seemed interminable; it just cannot compare to traipsing through a forest, to walk on city streets and roadways. We did see people walking out and about on our way, and people tended to acknowledge one another's presence by brief smiles or handwaves, perhaps tinged with a bit of wry disbelief at the situation we're in. Most people prudently observe a distance between themselves and others; mature people, the young tend to make no effort to do so, placing the onus on older people.

Just before we finally arrived at our own street, out popped our old friend Max whom we haven't seen in months, from a trail adjoining the main street. He stood on the trail, we stood on the street beyond, and we had a long conversation, voices raised, discussing the news, the leadership of heads of government, our vulnerabilities and acceptance of what we can do little about other than to adhere to authorized medical advice as best we can.