This morning my husband placed a renewal order for prescribed medications through the telephone service of the pharmacy we've used for decades. And in the early afternoon he drove over to pick up the prescription drugs. At the entry of the store two young men acting as attendants informed people entering that no one is permitted to enter with bags. Each person was asked what department of the store, a large supermarket which also houses our pharmacy, they were headed for.

My husband responded that the pharmacy was his destination and he was channeled through. Others were asked to wait until supermarket shoppers exited, because the supermarket was thronged with shoppers. At the pharmacy a plexiglass shield had been installed at each of the counters. And to ensure that clients didn't approach too closely, another type of shield to waist level made certain a separation gap was maintained. All the while a deep cleaning process of all surfaces was being conducted.

At the counter where the assembled prescription is usually handed over in a stapled-shut bag by a pharmacy worker who normally is always on duty, the client is asked to wait on brief standby until the bag is put in place for on the counter, the worker withdraws, and the client is free then to tale possession of the order. We pay nothing because we are seniors and the medications are on the Ontario drug formulary, free to seniors. On the approach to departing the store, an attendant asks if the intention is to enter the supermarket itself; if not, as in my husband's case, the person is ushered out.

On his drive over to the pharmacy along major streets, what was unusual was the infrequency of road traffic; few vehicles driving about. On the other hand, the sidewalks were unusually full of people strolling about; singles, couples, families. As in the supermarket itself, a surprising number of people out and about.

On his return home, my husband washed the light rubber gloves he had worn, hung them to dry, washed his bare hands, opened the bag, put aside the medications, washed his hands again. I am a nag. Soon afterward we exited the house together with Jackie and Jillie into a grey day, heavily overcast, windy, and slightly cooler than yesterday which had been a sunny, beautiful day of 8C.

The milder weather means that our pups can now shed their winter coats and wear woolly sweaters instead, and no boots. We hoped the thick ice layers smothering the trails in the forest would still be as they were yesterday, completely denaturized, almost mushy, and they were. So we set off for our course for the afternoon through the ravine with foot-safe confidence.

We did find that there were a number of people out on the trails that we would come across on a few occasions. It's always easy to tell people for whom hiking through the trails is a new experience, one they've never thought of before, but have turned to as a different experience to relieve boredom. They seem uncertain, a bit lost, rarely know where they are and what direction they're facing. In fact, just the way we feel when we embark on a detested stroll through neighbourhood streets that interlace, on the rare occasion we're shut out of the ravine.

While we were out it became evident soon enough that the sun was trying very hard to emerge from behind lowering banks of grey cloud. It's positioned so much higher in the sky now as it describes its arc from morning to afternoon to evening, than it was two months ago. Giving us in the process longer days so we can enjoy more light and less dismal darkness.

Although, to be sure, nature has provided us with a variant on that kind of 'dismal darkness', introducing us to the fearful presence of a hitherto-unknown coronavirus threatening the health and longevity wherever it strikes, that has succeeded in shutting down most human enterprise the world over.