Last night on the cusp of midnight when I 'officially' turned 84, my husband unveiled the latest birthday card he made for me. Not a typical birthday 'card' by any measure. He thought this year he'd make it with stained glass, since he had everything handy in his workshop anyway, working on a stained glass window. So he produced a small still-life of fruit in a bowl on a table (all fairly notional), and etched his message to me on the glass.

He actually wanted to give it to me days before. He just cannot keep things from me, but I persuaded him that I'd like him to wait, and so he did. It bothers him that he was unable to rush out at will and shop around for a gift for me, but I persuaded him yet again that it was more important to me that he not expose himself unnecessarily with the coronavirus running rampant, and stay at home. He's given me so may gifts of jewellery and other things over the years I hardly need, much less want anything more. It's not a new argument, but it is one he acceded to this year.

We rose early this morning, anxious to avoid the crush of shoppers we encountered last week. We arrived at the supermarket just a few minutes after eight. Even though the morning proceeds as it usually does; my husband takes Jackie and Jillie out to the backyard when we first come downstairs and I begin setting the table for breakfast and we take our time doing everything before leaving. Including doling out little pieces of cheese to the puppies to tide the pups over until breakfast on our return, they know that this morning is different.

And when we haul out our winter jackets and boots preparatory to leaving, they go into a state of deep mourning. Beginning with pleading whines, escalating to yowls. Heartbreaking, really. What a pair! But we're heartless and off we go leaving them to pine in our so-brief absence. And when we return a long leisurely breakfast ensues. This morning after their doggy breakfast enlivened with melon and chicken, they shared a hard-boiled egg between them.

It was an extremely cold morning, particularly after yesterday's high of 2C. But a sunny day, lighting up and warming the house interior through the windows. When we prepared to take the puppies out to the ravine for their afternoon ramble it was -8C, with a nasty, stiff wind, negating the effect of the sun. But off we trotted, all well geared for the cold.

Apart from the first hill we descend into the ravine, the next hill we encountered played host to a group of young children enjoying themselves sliding and slithering downhill. Accommodated by the fact that a thin layer of ice glazed what was left of the snow that fell early yesterday morning. As yesterday progressed however, it became warmer as afternoon arrived and the snow began melting. Overnight a snap freeze-up entered the atmosphere and froze whatever snow was left, leaving that ice layer, transforming the melting snow and the slick of meltwater into sheer ice.

Not much of a problem for us wearing cleats over our boots, but a dilemma for people coming in who were unfamiliar with the ravine, the forest trails and what to expect under such weather circumstances. People taking mincing steps, slowly and gingerly feeling their way along, grasping tree trunks and branches for equilibrium. As the parents of the three children we saw whooping it up on the hillside were doing, and others we saw as we made our way through the trails.

When we arrived back home it was time to relax again. Though he had worked downstairs in his workshop in the morning, my husband decided the rest of the day deserved to be treated like a holiday. Which means indulging in reading, and listening to lectures on his mini-laptop. While I indulged Jackie and Jillie with cut-up pieces of cauliflower they crave as afternoon treats.

And then starting to put together the constituentts of dinner. We're having a quiche tonight. With green beans on the side, and poached pears for dessert. I made the pastry dough, grated cheddar cheese into it, scattered chopped green onions over, covered it and refrigerated it at this point. Before dinner I'll add the green peas I'm defrosting and beat the eggs and milk that will comprise the filling, and all will be done.

I've fielded birthday calls and emails, and I'm ready for complete relaxation myself, back to reading the newspapers. Happy birthday, me!