When we spot them, spring and fall, it brings back childhood memories to us. We recall seeing them as children and fondly regarding them as fuzzy little creatures. Their common name makes them all the more appealing to children: Woolly Bear caterpillars. My husband saw one in the backyard this morning. And when we were out in the ravine with Jackie and Jillie for our afternoon stroll through the forest trails we came across another one.

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The Farmers Almanac credits them with being a messenger of sorts; how they appear is said to predict what kind of winter is ahead. The caterpillar has a band of orange in the centre, bookended by bands of black, front and back. Evidently a narrow orange band designates the winter-to-be as a snowy one. A wide orange band on the other hand, predicts a mild winter. Lastly, and most importantly, a very fuzzy-appearing caterpillar is a sign of an impending very cold winter. This little fellow had our hearty approval.

Jackie and Jillie don't notice these small creatures. When they were puppies they were curious about all insects. Now they're no longer objects of mystery to them. They more or less ignore bugs and insects. But not the stinging variety; Jillie in particular, although to our knowledge she has never been stung, is wary of bees and wasps. Our two pups react to the presence of small furred creatures of the forest and large ones, even birds when they're down at ground level, but not snakes or toads. Which is just as well.

We've returned to our old habit of taking our daily ravine treks in the afternoons, now that the weather has turned cold. We're expecting frost tonight. My husband turned the furnace on several days ago. As long as the sun shines brightly through the house windows, a certain level of warmth is maintained. And the fireplace helps. On overcast days it's another story; the house hasn't an opportunity to warm up and mid-September usually means it's time for the furnace to spring into action. There have been falls when we've been able to wait until mid-October, but this isn't one of them.

It surprised us once we were under the shade of the forest canopy just how cold it was today. We were also surprised, even though it's Sunday, at the number of people out on the  trails. We came across at least five family groups; mostly fathers and children on bicycles. Two little boys standing beside their bicycles asked whether they might be permitted to pet Jackie and Jillie. Small children are attracted to small dogs often.

Their father informed us that the boys had colds, but they had undergone tests for COVID and were clear. We had to explain that Jackie and Jillie aren't given to petting and cuddling. Other than with us, but it would be too complicated to explain this to the children. The boys did their best to coax our two little dogs over to them, and managed a fleeting pat before Jackie and Jillie, disinterested, moved speedily off. Yesterday, after we had returned home from our ravine ramble, three neighbourhood children did their utmost to persuade the puppies to stand close enough and still enough to be petted for all of five seconds. It's just the way they are. And not the way they are at home.

It's interesting when there are so many people out and about, the number of both men and women who prefer not to notice the presence of others; tight-lipped and frowning, they look as though they'd prefer to be somewhere else.  People whose faces are relaxed readily into smiles have no problems acknowledging other people.

For the most part people who walk about with dogs, people with small children in attendance, are open to the presence of others. Perhaps it's not surprising that most people who prefer avoiding others are unaccompanied by anyone else. Whether by preference or circumstance, or mutual rejection.