Snow began last night in the early evening. Not the light flurries that came down during the day, but real snow. We've had snow events often enough around the end of November that turned out to be the first real snows of the season. They were heavy snowstorms covering the ground at a time when the ambient temperature would no longer rise above freezing. So the snow stuck around and formed the basis for the season's snowpack.

That won't be the case this time. Not only because the amount of snow that fell was moderately light, only about five centimetres in depth, but because  even though we've been caught in a seemingly Arctic-weather grip, the forecast for the rest of the week is for moderating temperatures. Hard to believe, but we'll be going from today's high of 0C, up to 11C tomorrow, and a relatively balmy 15 the following two days. That will swiftly melt the snow that still lingers.

It will also, I hope,  unthaw the soil in the garden pots to enable us to finish emptying those large garden pots that haven't yet been scoured, into the garden so we can store the emptied pots for the winter months. And take in the rest of the garden furniture. It's much too cold to work outside now with blustery winds making it seem even colder than the current -2C and falling.

The snow that came down overnight didn't surprise us given the sight that met our eyes as we went up to bed last night. The depth of the snow in the backyard was a little surprising, though. When Jackie and Jillie went out to the back first thing this morning if they were given to whooping with joy they would have; instead they had a good romp of delighted surprise through the snow, chasing one another. 

They didn't feel much like whooping a short while later when it became evident to them we were going out to do the food shopping. For the first time Jillie joined Jackie in a chorus of howling. They stood together, heads raised, little snouts facing the ceiling, mouths emitting howls of utter desolation, despairing our leaving the house. Without them. Abandoned. Yet again.

Later, in the afternoon we dressed them for winter, given the wind gusts adding to the chill atmosphere. When the sun came out occasionally it felt much better, but it played peek-a-boo all day and its presence couldn't be relied upon. On with their lined winter jackets, their heavier harnesses, and off we went. There is nothing, admittedly, quite as ethereal-looking as new snow sifted over conifer branches. The wind had knocked most of it off, but here and there traces of how lovely it must have appeared last night when no one was around to appreciate the landscape.

Others had been out on the trails before us and where they tromped the snow had been well smashed down into the leaf mass ,leaving an icy residue behind. An icy surface over fallen foliage makes for a slippery trail, all the more so on the hillsides, so ascending and descending required a little care this afternoon. We wore winter jackets, warm head coverings and thicker gloves, but not yet our winter boots.

When the sun came out, the landscape was dazzling to behold. When the sun disappeared it became that much colder. That great ball of fire in the winter sky combined with a denuded forest canopy makes quite the combination of visual opposites. When it's so cold there's a tendency to pick up one's gait; we forge our way through the trails at a quicker pace, re-acquainting ourselves with the unfolding winter scene, recognizing the changed landscape as one we've seen countless times before, but never without a feeling of  gratified surprise.