The legend has it that those with pure hearts sleep well. Our 'hearts', these days are filled with pure terror. No man is an island and we faithfully tune in to the news to be aware of everything that is happening the world over. Knowing what is happening is not reassuring at the best of times. Hearing the daily count of COVID-19 cases is beyond dismal, each day's count greater than that of the day preceding it. And a little voice within asks: how high can it go?!

There is a general feeling of unreality, that this cannot possibly be happening to the only world we have and know, our haven in an  unknown universe. Not that we are given a choice, either where we are within the universe or the course that nature takes with a little help from its creatures. Some of those creatures find themselves in an advantageous position as they exemplify nature's creation instructions embedded in their genetic codes, to survive.

And for some of those creations survival means extinction for other creatures. In this instance, though humankind has been responsible in part for the extinction of creatures living alongside humanity, it is a lifeless virus that expands its universe by shrinking ours. A temporary condition to be sure, but in the breach between the current state of affairs and that which will surely follow once a mass global inoculation takes place, this novel coronavirus is in the ascendancy and humanity fights for its survival.

Gloomy thoughts in reflection of reality that one does well to steer one's mind away from. In thoughts of more pleasant, carefree times. When we mentally castigate ourselves over our too-casual interactions with our neighbours, other creatures that share our landscape and the manner in which we take that landscape for granted, failing to adequately appreciate its well-being, since we are mere tenants.

As tenants, we went along with our two little companion-creatures for a late-afternoon hike in the forest today. We were out and about around half-past three, and at this time of year that represents late afternoon. When we set out the sky was a gentle, pale blue and the sun rode high above. We've finally hauled out our serious winter jackets now that we've turned suddenly into freezing temperatures. 

The icy atmosphere is good news in the sense that no rain falls at these  temperatures. And the woodland trails that have lately been thick with muck are now firmly frozen, feeling solid underfoot and much more comfortable to traverse. Jackie and Jillie are so excited being out in the woods they strain at the leash, they veer here and there, looping and threading their way off-trail attracted by irresistible smells that call out to be investigated and read by them.

Halfway through our circuit dusk moved into the forest interior, and looking up to the sky toward the west we could see drifts of cloud in the otherwise darkening-blue sky that had caught fire from the setting sun. The leafless trees appeared dark and gaunt against the brighter backdrop of the sky, and all was still, the wind shifted and departed. It grew progressively darker, incredibly swiftly. By the time we exited the ravine at street level the street was dark and household lights blazed along with outdoor Christmas lights.

Before we left the house I had put on a lentil-vegetable soup to simmer, aromatic with fennel and cumin seeds and garam masala, stuffed with chopped garlic, onion, celery, carrot and tomatoes.  As we entered the house, the warm, promising fragrance of the soup enveloped us. I suggested baking a cornbread to accompany the soup and my husband agreed, and I quickly went about mixing together butter, egg, shredded cheese, half-cup sour cream, a half-cup fine cornmeal, half-cup flour, baking powder and salt.

And from that concoction emerged a companion to the soup. To which I had added chopped spinach a few minutes before serving it for dinner.  But certainly not before preparing dinner for Jackie and Jillie, their kibble and additional chicken, following which they demanded their vegetable salad. Even though when we had returned home an hour or so earlier they'd had little bowls of chopped-up fresh cauliflower since to overlook their after-hike snack would be tantamount to puppy-neglect, quite simply unforgivable.