We're back in the deep-freeze, on our way to the much-deeper freeze of winter. A high today of 4C, colder tomorrow, but a gloriously clear sky and a blazing sun today, albeit windy as well. On our way up the street when we set out with Jackie and Jillie to the ravine for our usual daily tramp, a few of our neighbours seemed cheerful enough, putting up Christmas decorations. Tradition and the recall of memories always cheers people up and heaven knows we need cheering this year.

My husband had remarked casually earlier in the day how long it's been since I baked gingerbread cookies. And that had me recalling how, when our children were young, and I was decades younger then than they all are now, around Christmas I would plan to put together gingerbread castles. I used a rolling pin to wind a crenellated tower of dough over it, then bake it in the oven and slip the baked roll off the rolling pin.

The walls of the castle were simple enough, just squares of dough with windows cut out and later shutters were affixed with lots of icing, and the same with the gates. Sometimes the roofs would be difficult to put in place, but with patience and a bit of  extra time (and scads of icing as a fixative) they would finally stick, and were ready to be decorated with more icing, emulating shingles. Candy canes would be stationed either side of the entryway.

I would deliver it to one or another of the classes at school, and the children had a free-for-all disassembling and eating the castle. There were lots of decorated cookies and gingerbread men at home for our own children to gorge on. Speaking of gorging, I can still remember that while I was rolling out and cutting and baking the gingerbread dough, I'd also sneak spoonfuls of it, and discovered how addictive it was to the point of nausea.

So I baked some gingerbread men, and used the very same recipe that I used so many decades ago, and the same cookie cutters as well. I only had whole cloves that I usually use in small amounts and grind with a mortar and pestle, but this time I used my all-purpose coffee grinder that is used only for grinding up seeds and spices and filled up a spice bottle with the results. Then had to scrub out the interior of the grinder. But I had plenty of leisure time, and felt like piddling about.

Once we were out on the forest trails, we were certainly glad we'd dressed a little warmer. The wind doesn't penetrate quite as much in the forest, but on the other hand, neither does the sun manage to make its way through the forest canopy to fully warm up and light the trails, either. There are areas that are more open, and there the warmth of the sun can be felt, and we could see how long the shadows we threw appeared, as though spectres of dark ectoplasm were striding on before us.

The ground is now once again hard, well penetrated by frost, and it will certainly remain that way for the next five months. All the fallen foliage has surrendered their vibrant colour to assume a monotone of tinged browns. Except for those areas directly on the trails where countless bootsteps have ground them into the forest floor and they're broken into crisp, dark shards.

Jackie and Jillie wander everywhere the length of their rectractable leashes will permit. In the process, particularly when they become excited about something, the leashes will twist together and that's when we put our heads together and manage to unravel them. It was so much easier when we had them off leash. Back then, however, the presence of coyotes was far less threatening than it has since become, and we've got to keep them close enough to maintain control for their security.

Arrived home again, they shadow me constantly until we arrive back in the kitchen, where I open the refrigerator, withdraw cauliflower and cut it into their little salad dishes for them. And then it's time for them to relax, to get back to the important work of snoozing for an hour or so in their favourite napping spots. It's a dog's life they lead.