We prepared as usual for our afternoon ramble through the forest trails in the ravine early this afternoon. We did have our doubts about the conditions in the ravine. After yesterday's high temperature of a whopping mild 12C, and rain that fell lightly at some times and ferociously at others through the day. Optimism never hurts. At this time of high alert and fear resulting from the rapid spread of the novel coronavirus globally, we need a little bit of optimism, both for the present and for the future.

But it took no time at all for that optimism to evaporate. In our three decades of living in close proximity to the ravine we have never before encountered a situation where it would be absolutely foolhardy to enter the ravine's precincts. A little depth of thought reminds one that at this time when it is folly to arrive at any hospital emergency room unless utterly desperate, a broken limb would be rather inconvenient through a fall on hard ice, and more than a little care be required to avoid such an event.

The rain, and the mild temperature had done its share of melting in the ravine, where the forest floor is gradually being relieved of its accumulated snowpack. Whatever had melted during yesterday's rainfall and mild temperature, had frozen solid overnight when the temperature fell to -10C. When we set out for the ravine the temperature had risen to its high for the day; -2C. We've had sun since early morning, just beginning to cloud over in the afternoon, and with a stiff, icy wind.

As we entered the pathway leading to the first descent into the ravine, it was clear from the condition of the trail we encountered that this would be a formidable challenge, nothing like what we had encountered before, even though in the past several weeks we've had to proceed with care on the soft ice. What we saw before us now, and glided tentatively over on the flat areas approaching the hill was sheer, glare ice.

My defences of self-preservation kicked in faster than did my husband's. He urged us to go on a little further just to make sure that things didn't improve and we might be able to manager, after all. Jackie and Jillie knew something was amiss; they too were gliding everywhere, even with their little rubber boots. We tried another approach, turning hard right to a more gradual descent on another trail where at first there was still a layer of soft, icy snow over the harder ice. That lasted all of two minutes and then we were in glare ice again.

We knew that that it was futile, we would have to retreat, and we did. And then did the unthinkable, taking a puzzled Jackie and Jillie for a walk on the streets nearby. Where we saw confirmed yet again the presence of such little traffic it might have been the middle of the night, with the occasional vehicle coming into sight and whizzing by. And when we turned up neighbourhood streets, driveways were full of cars but no one was otherwise in sight, nor cars driving up and down the streets.

We did pass on several occasions, other people out walking their dogs. And a pair of women jogging on the street. A young couple walking a large breed dog remained on the sidewalk, and we made a detour onto the road with our two little dogs until we passed them. This is our new reality. Sad and dismal. A neighbour emerged from her home on the street behind ours as we made our way up her street and back over to ours, and we acknowledged one another, spoke briefly from a distance, and parted.

At one juncture we passed a wry reminder of more carefree, much happier days. Someone had left out on their front lawn a large Christmas ornament. With the snow fast melting on lawns, given our arrival at the Spring Equinox and increasingly warm days, a snowman of impressive dimensions stood there, waving cheerily. How little we might have imagined back in December that even then, far away in China, in a city of millions of people, a new, deadly virus was emerging in Wuhan....

On a happier note, last night as we made our way to the stairs to go up to bed around midnight, there was a nocturnal visitor. A quite large raccoon. We know they visit us regularly, but we don't always catch their presence. This one remained deliberately oblivious to our peering at it through the glass-fronted door, enabling me to take a number of photographs, in the process appreciating the agility and elegance of her 'hands' with opposable thumbs, scooping up the offerings.