One of those days. Memorable only because it so darkly overcast, threatening rain. Gloomy, moody, glum-inducing. The kind of day that is so affecting you muse what's the point of getting out of bed? But you do, as  you must. And feel lethargic all day. A day when to escape the all-encompassing gloom, you feel impelled to eat, not because you must, not in reaction to hunger, but as a way to appease the unease. It's a day for napping. Not that you mean to, but if you sit somewhere with the intention of reading or just contemplating life -- a dangerous occupation these days -- you will fall asleep. Weather.

It took us no time this morning to decide after we'd showered that the glowering aspect of the sky meant business. So it might be a good idea to dress up for rain and hie ourselves out for an early morning walk because by all indications there would be no usual afternoon hike through the forest trails for Jackie and Jillie and us today otherwise. On with their raincoats, on with their boots.

And we, of course, needed cleats firmly strapped over our boots for traction, knowing full well how slippery the hills in the ravine have become. And because it was cold enough overnight, just at the freezing point, we found the initial trails to be still in a state of stiff icy conditions. The slushy mush that had begun to dominate the trails as we discovered yesterday afternoon through this spate of milder weather that has melted most of the snowpack left after two snowstorms last week had hardened overnight.

But as we proceeded onward the weather did too, upward -- until the temperature rose to 2C degrees and began again melting what was left of the snow. Unlike most morning hikes we encountered just one person with one dog. Most people unaccustomed to what happens in a natural setting like a forest assume that when it's mild -- just a tad over freezing -- all will be pleasant and easy-going, so yesterday when the temperature rose to 6C, there were quite a few people about; we encountered at least a dozen. And they were slipping and sliding, unprepared for the mess the trails become under such conditions.

And so, lesson learned. The 'wanderers' as my husband has taken to calling them, the occasional hikers who've heard of the ravine's forest trails and desperately need to get out of social confinement for a few hours, don't tend to return. The result was for us a quiet, pleasant hike through the forest trails, undisturbed by anyone else's presence which means that Jackie and Jillie behaved since they had no reason not to.

It wasn't until we were back home and starting breakfast that the rain began. And it rained, and it rained. The wind drove the rain straight toward the house from every direction. I couldn't open the side door without risking the storm door being torn from its hinges. When I shook out my dusters later on at the front door while doing the house-cleaning, the wind drove the rain directly onto the porch and from there into my face. The trees were bending this way and that, and it felt colder.

One of those days.