Today was one of those 'iffy' days for Jackie and Jillie, our two little poodles. They weren't certain if we were abandoning them two times over in one day. So that left them feeling unappreciated, unwanted little orphans wondering if they were being punished for being so very, very good. In which case it must have occurred to them that they were likelier to be 'noticed' by us and more greatly appreciated if they behaved like two little scamps. But if they did, it slipped our notice; we saw them behaving as they usually do, just moderately demanding and just as moderately accommodating.

We headed off soon after waking this morning, to get an early start on accessing food for our depleted cupboards and Arctic-white-cold-and-empty refrigerator. We explained to an incredulous J&J that we were just leaving them temporarily for an important mission, to restore what in their greed for food and treats two little puppies omnivorously devoured in a week. An astonishing amount in comparison to what two hale and healthy adult humans manage to put away comfortably in that same space of time.

As usual all hell broke loose as soon as they saw us headed for the hall cupboard to remove our jackets and pull them on. The little chunks of cheese they had avidly devoured just moments earlier to tide them over to a proper breakfast was suddenly viewed as a betrayal simply to put them off their guard. Jillie whined and Jackie yodeled their utter misery. He could win a prize for heart-strung melancholy and Jillie for absolute tormented agony.

In no time at all -- literally -- we returned with the goodies to two excited little dogs leaping about happily, joyful at the unexpected reunion. Yep, a new kind of  treat, two of which they permitted us to indulge them in while we put away groceries and they were so helpful to the process, directing us this way and that while we were under the impression they were merely getting underfoot.

 And then, breakfast over with, cleaning up done, a bit of this and a bit of that, they suddenly realized we were at it again. Preparing to leave. This time the house, not them. We had put on their collars, the signal that they would be going with us. To the spa. To be groomed. They know the route and recognized where they were while we parked. And awaited permission to enter, masked. And then we had the gall to leave them there for an agonizing hour-and-a-half, to return alone to a suddenly very quiet and boring house.

Once retrieved, coiffed and bathed and looking quite adorable, off we went for our daily tramp through the ravine. This has been a two-month-early winter day. Unmistakable; yesterday's brief little snow and ice-pellet events astride the all day rain delivered the message, as did the -3C reading of the temperature when we awoke this morning. But by mid-afternoon the temperature had soared to 2C, overcast and windy. A search for their winter coats ensued, along with ours, and then off we went.

Cold. Very cold. Damp. Windy. Overcast. 

But we were on the forest trails and that was what mattered. Jackie and Jillie bounced along the trails absorbed as usual in the divine fragrances only they can discern and must keenly investigate, both at length and in minute detail. Jackie signals his approval by leaving his own water-mark. Jillie, prim and proper, avails herself of whatever little twigs are handy for a quick chaw.

At this time of year before the snow whips through the atmosphere gently settling on anything that doesn't move and finally presents us with ethereal artwork fit for a fairytale, the forest takes on a fairly dismal cast. There is less sun in late-October into November, and the contrast between night-time and day-time temperatures signal freeze-and-thaw, and the thaw invites underfoot muck. Much more telling is the naked condition of the deciduous trees. True, immature ironwood and beech, and often oak, tend to hold on to their pale papery foliage, but all other trees have shed theirs, the trunks and limbs standing out dark and stark within the dusky forest interior.

You have to look a little harder to espie and recognize the beauty surrounding you. Not only the sound of bluejays and woodpeckers, the fleeting presence of squirrels, the bright green moss that defies the cold, the wanly waving dry and dessicated foliage still hanging on, the dense, deep scattering of still-kaleidoscopic colours of foliage on the forest floor, the spume of the ravine creek as it rushes downstream, the bright dark green of the conifers, the architecture of the forest, its canopy and understory, the sky above, but it's there, awaiting notice.