Heavy rain began in the wee hours of the night. The rain fell heavily and steadily. When dawn crept in banishing night there was no blaze of light shining through our bedroom windows, such as we're mostly eager to see and are rarely disappointed by an absence of. Early morning it still seemed dark, so we just turned over and went back to sleep.

When we roused ourselves again the dim light prevailed, but it was time to get up, according to Jackie and Jillie, so up we got. Rain was still pounding down, a dark, miserable-looking day. Why be surprised; we realized it was Friday 13th... We got on with things as usual, heartened by the weather forecast that gave us clearing skies before the morning was over, and sun and a wind warning by early afternoon. A new front would be coming in with the wind. Gone the moderating temperatures, in with a return of colder temperatures.

We already knew from looking at the news the day before that the novel coronavirus has struck Ottawa. Not only one individual returning from a conference in Austria bringing it back with him resulting in the high-tech firm he works for ordering all employees to work from home. But as it happens, the prime minister of this country will also be working from home.

His wife had attended a youth conference in Britain and while there acquired COVID-19. So she is in quarantine in their quarters and her husband has joined her in self-isolation for the requisite two-week period. And Parliament will be shuttered for the next two weeks. The country is facing a health emergency, so doesn't it make sense for the House of Commons to be out for the time being, giving MPs the opportunity to confer with their constituents?

Before we even entered the ravine under a partially cloudy sky this afternoon, the sound emanating from the forest canopy as we approached resonated like a freight train nearby. The wind had picked up and it was seriously roaring through the forest. Not so much at ground level, but high above, gusts shoved the trees around in a forced dance of indignity.

Because of the rain, because of the milder temperature melting the snowpack, because of the fierce heat of the sun on its periodic escape from the clouds, the ravine's creek was running high, wide and full, as much so as we ever see it during spring snowmelt. High enough to push the banks markedly further beyond their normal status, the water rushing onward, an interesting counterpoint to the blasting of the wind above.

Making our way uphill required considerable effort; we spent as much time slipping backward as we did striding forward. But finally gaining the top of the ravine ridge, we descended again toward a tributary of the creek and another bridge, then once again ascended the next hill. This area is exposed far less to sun penetration and the trails there were well iced and slippery, requiring considerable care not to misstep and suffer yet another fall, like yesterday's.

Before long, Jackie and Jillie were excitedly barking, sensing the approach of someone, and soon enough along came Charley, whom we haven't seen in many months, as messy looking, relaxed and happy as she usually does, and wanting attention. She was followed soon afterward by Dan, and thereafter we had walking companions for the remainder of our circuit.

Dan brought us up-to-date on his many enterprises, and of course the topic of the moment, beyond discussions of the weather and impending spring, is the novel coronavirus. And then that switched to his problems trying to produce creditable picture frames in the woodworking workshop he recently set up in his garage. Which brought my husband to describe to him how useful certain workshop tools are ... and on ... and on ...