I was late this morning getting started on cleaning the house. Procrastination seems to have made a home in my busy schedule of housework. I somehow, mysteriously, find so many other things that simply must be done before I hang out with mops and dusters, much less a pail of soapy water for the floors. I now leave the vacuuming to my husband. He's more conscientious than I am and I keep telling him to relax about it. But it is a relief to me that he's taken on the vacuuming.

It should mean that I get through the housecleaning faster, but what it really means is that I can dawdle about taking 'breaks' more frequently, and those mostly consist of sneaking over to my desk-top to have a peek at what's going on. And once there, there's so much going on I feel as though I'm been ambushed; too much interesting stuff to break off quickly as I'd meant to do.

By the time two in the afternoon rolled around, Jackie was getting restless, a signal that I've been lagging. He asks to go out, I take him and Jillie out to the backyard, but clearly that's not really what he wants. Soon, I tell him, I'll get a move on now, and we'll be off to the ravine soon. Just the floors left to do. He's sympathetic and allows me to get on with the floors. Which is to say down on my hands and knees, scrubbing the floors.

They're tile floors my husband installed years and years ago, and they're a breeze to wash. In fact, though there's the laundry room, the powder room, our upstairs bathroom, the foyer, the kitchen and the breakfast room whose floors all get done on Monday, they take no time at all. More or less. And then I'm done, and off we go!

Not so fast. It began snowing a few hours earlier. Not a snowstorm, just a lazy sprinkling of fluff. So no real accumulation, just a thin layer flurrying down, but enough to cover the dark landscape and make it appear brighter. Bright enough, say, so my camera can squeeze out a few fuzzy photos. Because it's half-past three by the time we're in the ravine, and dusk has already asserted itself. Without that layer of snow it would appear much darker.

At one point we see a pinprick of light appearing, disappearing, appearing, then gone again and finally realize it's someone on a bicycle with brightly-lit lamps. A large dog passes us wearing a halter equipped with a night-light and he jauntily lopes on ahead with his human companion eventually catching up, but with the assurance that she can see him for quite a distance.

In fact, we're somewhat surprised, as the dark curtain of early night closes in, at the number of people out on the trails. We had expected to see no one else because of the fast-approaching dark, yet nothing could be further from reality. Everyone delighted to make footsteps in the new snow, and hoping for more to fall overnight. 

The temperature although quite a bit colder than yesterday around the same time, seems far more comfortable today, and we realize there's an absence of wind. Evidently it had exhausted itself roaring through the forest canopy yesterday, and decided to take a day of rest.