We woke to an overcast, gloomy day. It was our intention to give Jackie and Jillie their breakfast, take them out to the backyard briefly, and make off for the supermarket where we usually shop, to get our weekly shopping done. Early, because we wanted to avoid crowds and minimize the chance of being exposed to someone who might be ill. And hoping that the supermarket shelves at that time of morning would be well stocked. I'd had a dream just before waking that we were shopping and discovered nothing but empty shelves.

It was overcast because it was snowing, and a layer of snow covered the ground. Jackie and Jillie had long sensed something was different, and knew they were going to be 'abandoned' again, poor little tykes. They were frantic, begging to go with us, but we were firm and off we went.While we were out the snow turned to rain. Then there was some clearing, and brief periods of sun until the clouds returned and the rain resumed. At the supermarket we struggled into disposable gloves we'd brought with us, and wiped down the shopping cart handle with disinfectant tissue, then proceeded to shop.

Very few shoppers about, which was what we'd hoped for. Plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables, thank heavens. Toilet paper? None. The paper toiletry shelves were empty, though a few bundles of paper towels were left, and facial tissues. No matter, we had ample at home. Frozen vegetables, gone. Nothing at the long meat counter. All the 'E' enhanced eggs gone. Plenty of frozen fish and frozen fruit and cheese and milk, however. Returned home with our purchases, the work of wiping everything down with soapy water commenced before placing items on shelves or in the refrigerator.

So it was a relief afterward to sit quietly at breakfast after showering, and later still preparing to get out into the ravine with Jackie and Jillie. A milder day than yesterday, at least we could be assured that the icy trails we'd encountered then would now be mostly mush. Rain had subsided and the wind had picked up, and the sun kept beaming down sporadically. On our way up the street to gain the ravine entrance we ran into one of our long-term neighbours walking another neighbour's dog.

Whose house just happens to back onto the ravine. They're on a visit to Tennessee, leaving their dog in the care of their son. They're a medical family, he an oncologist, she a nurse though both now retired, and their daughter-in-law is also a doctor. She looked after disinfecting the scratches and abrasions that little Munchkin, a long-haired Dachshund, suffered when she ran after a coyote that had entered their backyard. But it was our neighbour who habitually takes the little fellow for her walks.

We decided to take a different route via different trails and ended up staying in the forest for a much longer circuit than we'd originally intended. And discovered as we mounted and then descended various hills and valleys rarely visited that the trails were indeed dicey, so proceeded with care. During that time the rain returned, first lightly pattering down, and we were glad we'd put winter raincoats on our two little dogs. We ran into some acquaintances with their dogs and for a short while there was a bit of dog-pandemonium. And when the sun came out again we thought the sky was clearing for good.

Soon afterward we were in serious rain. All of which conditions will certainly melt the snowpack faster. We ran into a woman we've seen on occasion with her giant St.Bernard, beside the last bridge we would access over the creek and watched as the dog ambled down the bank beside the bridge to immerse itself into the swift-running, icy and turbulent water, up to its head. And then as it ambled back up again and shook its massive coat, water flying everywhere; polite enough to have kept a reasonable distance from us.