We really were taken by surprise this morning when we came downstairs for breakfast to see a white whirlwind unfolding before our eyes. The wind was up and it was snowing. How long it was snowing was beyond us, but there was a bit of an accumulation. It was also just at the freezing mark, so mild. What could be more perfect than a winter-white landscape? It's something we just cannot get tired of looking at.

So, our son gathered  his ski equipment and off he went to the ravine for an early ski run. The snow was not light and fluffy, somewhat wet but snow nonetheless, of a more sticky, packing-type we're familiar enough with. He was back, it seemed in no time, and then set about shovelling. Jackie was busy too, avidly viewing a little black squirrel on the porch, doing its best to pack away as many peanuts as it could.

All of us went out together later on to enjoy a superlative hike through the newly-snowed woods. Unlike the day before we came across almost no one else; a couple walking their dog, and a single fellow walking his, while we also saw someone on a mountain bike with puffy all-weather tires zipping through the trails.

Our son was on skis again, accompanying us, but in the process covering four times as much snow-laden ground as we did. He'd go down one  hill, make his way back up, descend again and haul himself back up in the time it took us to even get to the starting point. Jackie and Jillie are now well accustomed to seeing him on skis, unlike when they were puppies and ran helter-skelter, barking furiously after him.

The snow, soft and fresh, cushioned our boots and we found ascents and descents decent enough; not as much slipping as the day before, without the fresh snow. Everywhere we looked was a fairyland, a wonderland of snow-dusted trees. Halfway through our hike, despite that it was still snowing, the sun made a few brief, wan appearances.

The wind sent tree tops waving and touching against each others' spires. We saw crows flying about, coasting on the wind, no doubt enjoying the effortless ride. Clumps of snow kept falling from over-laden branches and from time to time a gust of wind would release a great cloud of snow from its perch on the forest canopy, creating a brief white-out.

We saw an odd sight as we trooped along the trails, when my side-vision caught a strange looking object about six yards into the forest interior, when I noticed, hanging from an understory tree there was a grey ovoid of fair size. My son had happened to see it at about the same time; he had followed the trajectory of my gaze as I stopped momentarily and swivelled my head to the side, uncertain at first what the object was. A wasp's nest, nothing less. Not the first time we've seen one in the woods. It would never be seen in summer; only winter could reveal its presence with an absence of foliage to hide it.

Snow kept up for much of the day, despite which the mild temperature ensured that it would also continue melting. Although evergreen boughs were bent low with the weight of the snow, elsewhere, on the banks of the creek it was steadily melting, and the creek continued its roiling, muddy journey downstream -- practising an eternal ritual in the transition from winter to spring.