The power and attraction the sun has on all living things is well known to us when we feel cheered on sunny days following day upon day of heavily overcast skies. Little wonder its warmth and light mean so much to all that lives since it is the source of life itself. On really cold winter days -- and today qualifies to a degree though we've had much colder -- when the sun is out Jackie and Jillie are irresistibly drawn to a corner of the breakfast room where the sun on its morning roll from east to west shines the brightest and warmest. They position themselves accordingly to soak up as much of its rays as possible.

Their dark coats ensure that they really do soak up the warmth. To a degree that after the initial bliss and comfort they begin to feel too warm, and eventually move away. Jillie always seeks cool relief under the coffee table in the family room and that's where she's to be found after a spate of time in the sun-sauna experience. I took the first photograph of both of them basking in the sun just like that, when they were puppies of three months old. They're now six years older.

We went along to the ravine for an afternoon hike a little earlier than we usually do, since Saturday is kind of our 'day off' of just about anything extraneous to simply living and lolling about. From our earlier excursions to the backyard with the puppies throughout the morning hours we knew it was cold, windy and sunny. Still the backyard presents as a bit of a microclimate; it's never as cold there as it is at the front of the house. And in the summer months it gets hotter, in a reversal.

Since it's a Saturday we anticipated that there would be even more people out on our once-deserted forest trails than we'd encountered the past week. Actually, activity in the ravine with people from the community streaming through the trails has been going on for a year, ever since the novel coronavirus first entered the country and with the first wave, everything was locked down and people left with nowhere to go, discovered the abundant opportunities available in the ravine.

We weren't wrong, there were about as many people out and about as we have ever seen and slightly more. Our attention was arrested by shouts and screams as we approached the first bridge crossing the creek at the bottom of the ravine and looked over to the opposite side to see a young boy sliding down the hillside, another above him until they had almost reached the creek. It was steep and they were experiencing difficulties making their way back up. There's no trail there, of course, but young boys are wont to 'explore'. These two were in a bit of a pickle. Other children stood at the top of the hill cheering them on.

We moved on, passing the adult who was with them, and eventually, about an hour or so later came across the group again, this time on high ground, still in the forest, above the ravine. They were striding forth before us on the trail, and the older boys, around 8 and 11, were busy kicking at stumps, tossing sticks around. My husband shouted at them to desist when they tried to grapple a sapling to the ground, to snap it off. The adult with them was far ahead, paying no attention to their antics.

They were only one of the many groups of children out with their families on this beautiful winter day. Some were accompanied by their family dogs. More often it was couples or single people out with their dogs, the dogs running free and wild, into the forest interior, chasing one another, satisfying their urge to be unencumbered however briefly by the requirement to 'behave'. A perfect environment for city dogs, and since when it's so cold small wildlife tend to semi-hibernate, no disturbance.

Among all the people and children and dogs running amok through the trails we also came across some of our friends, and that was pleasant. All of us tut-tutting about how things have changed in the last while, some confident that as soon as the 'COVID-thing' was over, the incursions would diminish and all would be left in peace once again.