It takes time to adjust -- or re-adjust as the case may be -- to living in deep cold again. This year of 2020 has been such an unusual, peculiar, horrifying year that everything seems off, just not as it should be. And that's from how just two people feel in a household that has been relatively speaking, untouched by the great tragedies of the global pandemic.

A kind of universal gloom seems to have settled everywhere. All is well nonetheless for those who are optimistic by nature, and for whose way of thinking leads them to believe that all difficulties given time will come to an end. We can be grateful for similar trust in the future, one that resolves itself  with the assurance that a reprieve will arrive to rescue the world from a universal threat.

While the thought of that threat hangs over everyone everywhere, it does so to differing degrees of constant awareness, and for those fortunate like us, the darkness is semi-remote, as though we are living through a time in history that will soon be history itself. But the subconscious presence of a suffocating concern over which we can do nothing but have patience does influence us in ways we may not recognize.

 The most we can do is follow that old adage of 'doing the best we can', coping. One way that humans do that is by comforting themselves and the most common type of symbolic comfort is through food and eating things pleasant to the palate that we call comfort food. Yesterday, another cold and windy day where the change toward winter penetrates both one's consciousness and the very marrow of our bones, we had a chicken fricassee for dinner.

Thank heavens for modern conveniences; freezers, refrigerators, stoves and ovens, central heating, reliable potable water to make cooking and hygiene that much more convenient. And a reliable food supply where produce untenable during winter months to procure locally can be shipped in from abroad. Garlic from Spain, mushrooms from Mexico, carrots from the U.S. were all part of the companion preparations for chicken from Ontario.The green beans from Mexico, the rice from California.

We woke to another dark day this morning, with no relief from the overcast conditions all day. Wind gusting to 60 kph, and threat of icy rain that failed to materialize. Today is laundry day which means a change of bed linen, only the 'linen', now is comprised of flannelette bedding for warmth and comfort under a down comforter. The cotton linens won't be used again until spring.

And we were grateful that the rain held off, though it's now scheduled for tomorrow. Temperatures just slightly below freezing and rain make for an uncomfortable combination, exacerbated by high winds, when contemplating adding quality to the day by planning an outdoor excursion. And where would we be without those outdoor excursions? Sheltering in place. An admitted need at this time, but self-confining to an uncomfortable degree for which there is a solution for we fortunate ones.

So gathering Jackie and Jillie, we all prepared for our outdoor excursion. With this intemperate weather we no longer have to cope with the presence of an unusual number of trail hikers from the wider community; an excess of cold and wind is a deterrent to them while it is not an inconvenience for us. We met up with a total of two people and two dogs. One we've long been familiar with, the other not.

 Otherwise we were in our own private landscape, a forest in transition between late fall and early winter, awaiting rescue from the dim appearance of a perpetual dusk, where towering forest trees reach to a metallic-grey sky, a high wind ripping through the forest canopy.