Sobering but unsurprising news for those living in the country's most populous province and in the nation's capital. Unsurprising to anyone keeping tabs on the continually growing daily count of new cases and deaths attributed to COVID-19. Sobering because you feel from your own experience that the public is engaged in doing  what it can to avoid either contracting or passing on the SARS-CoV-2 virus, but you also know from what you've read that there are those in society who feel it entirely unnecessary to heed the pleas and warnings from the medical community.

 In the first wave of  COVID to hit the province the hospitalization, intensive care and death toll was borne largely by the health-compromised and elderly who lived in long-term care homes and retirement homes. Now, in the second phase of the pandemic, long after governments at all levels pledged to ensure that the elderly would never again become victims of a vicious virus, those same governments are shrugging their shoulders in helpless dismay as the same scenario is once again unfolding.

Case numbers have been rising steadily for the past month, and accelerating for the past week and more. Each day brings another record-shattering total of numbers of people infected, hospitalized, placed in intensive care and ultimately buried. And, once again, it is the elderly and the infirm taking the brunt of the assault. We're given the grim news that a projection of daily cases in the province exceeding 6,000 by mid-December, if new cases continue to grow at five percent.

It doesn't seem too much to ask of people that they wear masks when in indoor spaces, to practise responsible social distancing, to wash hands repeatedly, given the threat facing all of society, with our medical system groaning under the weight of new admissions to hospitals. Most people are happy to comply even if it has disrupted their lives in ways both slight and profound. The upward trend in infections is deeply worrying across the country.

So you go on living your life as close to what you know is normal as possible. All the way the dark shadow of the coronavirus threat hovers in the background. We're fortunate that we have easy access to an alternative venue outside our home that has meaning to us, that helps us stay focused on the value of life and how much it is to be appreciated. Out on the forest trails, we're exposed to clean, fresh air, the views of a natural landscape's beauty, while we're exercised, moving our limbs, relaxing our minds.

My husband is an avid reader of short stories. Of the writers he most admires, he turns to reading and re-reading the classing literature of late 19thCentury and early 20thCentury Russian classics. Some of which I have read myself in years past. The stories move him greatly, and he believes that the quality of the writing in its insightfulness far surpasses that which issues from most other countries' writers in portrayals of humanity and the vicissitudes of life. While we're out, walking through the trails, he often describes and recounts the stories to me. He has always, as long as I can recall, narrated stories to me.

Our house last night was redolent with the smell of onions, although I had kept the kitchen stove fan on while I was cooking a vegetable stir-fry featuring, onion, garlic, snow peas, bell pepper, broccoli and bok choy. The vegetables were paired with steamed rice and chicken strips cooked separately that had been marinated in garlic, soy sauce and olive oil. I had planned it for the day before, but a power outage prevented it, so it was featured for yesterday and the fish dinner I usually prepare for Thursday has been moved forward to tomorrow.

Friday night meals are immutable, starting with chicken soup and rice. It's traditional in most Jewish households as a culinary custom. This morning I decided to bake a cheesecake. My husband, who often drops by to pick up extra food items here and there brought home a large tub of cream cheese yesterday. Since it has a best-before date of 16 November, half of it was destined for a cheesecake. It's the best-tasting cream cheese I can recall; smooth, creamy and rich. As for the cheesecake, it's vanilla with white chocolate, glazed with blueberries.

Jackie and Jillie's reward for being good little dogs was a promise that 'soon' we'd depart for our afternoon turn in the ravine, where they could revert as they usually do from good little dogs to bad little dogs. Their trail manners leave much, much to be desired. Not only are we not particularly good teachers, it would appear, but it might also be that we can continue placing the blame for their hostility to dogs they don't know to their very specific breed as toy poodles.

The day was much like yesterday temperature-wise, with a high of 6C, a bit of wind, and heavily overcast. So we dressed for it, and were comfortable throughout the hour-and-a-half time we enjoyed our circuit. Because of people being cooped up in their homes and getting tired of it, we've seen an increasingly-steady stream of new faces in the ravine. And while we certainly can't blame anyone for seeking out venues where fresh air and exercise can be had in an impressive natural setting, we've come across a surprising number of  truly morose individuals whose grim faces would curdle the good cheer of anyone else.

 

People who simply ignore the presence of others, not bothering to respond to polite greetings. This has nothing to do with maintaining distance, and everything to do with some people in society harbouring sociopathic tendencies for whom social etiquette of polite acknowledgement of the presence of others makes no impact whatever. And that's a pity. The human equivalent to bad-mannered little dogs.