This winter is turning out to be different than others we normally expect through long familiarity. The Ottawa area and I guess mostly the Ottawa Valley (east-central Canada) is accustomed to winter sunshine. Invariably when a clear day dawns it will also be an extremely cold day. We've had some cold days thus far, but unlike most Januaries the day-time highs have been lower than moderate for this time of year. And when we have relatively balmy days of 0C, they're heralded by overcast skies.

Which means we've had a long series of dense overcast through most of December and now into January. Much shorter days,tilted away from the sun, with twilight creeping early in the afternoon into the forest interior. And we've experienced less than our usual amount of snow as well. That can change on a dime here, where weather is so volatile and tends to swing from one extreme to another. But it makes me feel that I can relate to what winters are like in Norway, for example although Canada's latitude is similar to that of Norway and both our far northern regions share temperature extremes. Norway sees less sun and in its far north none in winter. But the same is true for Canada.

It's a trade-off, here. Clear skies and sun means colder temperatures and no snowfall. Overcast skies gives us milder-temperature days, and the possibility of snow. Now, if only we could lecture nature on the blessings of moderation... a little bit of everything. She's famous for her capricious temperament, though, and admittedly not given to listening to, much less heeding advice from cheeky humans.

So today is mild, heavily overcast, the sky an aluminum lid over the landscape. When we're out in the ravine, tramping through the forest trails now nicely snow-padded, the landscape resembles a white cocoon. And we're sandwiched in between a white forest floor with the forest trees etched brightly in white, and the sky above the canopy seeming to reflect the very same aluminum-white.

It's on days like this that past experience taught us years ago that when we entered the ravine in the evening hours, a transcendent, glowing light would prevail in the interior. Particularly on cloudy days like these. Not so much on moonlit days. The entire forest would be alight in shades of pink and pale mauve. Partly, we assumed as a reflection of nearby city lights bouncing off the clouds and returning to Earth to illuminate the forest. The puzzle was why that same ethereal light wasn't seen outside the forest, only within? 

A light so bright that we could clearly make out details, and perspective was no problem at all. At night it was a silent forest, most of its creatures asleep for the night but for night predators which tend to strike in silence in any event. The sound of our boots well muffled by layers of snow underfoot. A stillness prevailing as though reality was suspended. Those were in fact otherwordly experiences. Back then we were still in the workforce so it was at night that we most frequently hiked through the forest.

We had different little companions back then. It was many years ago. We're older, and we  have different little companions now. At that time the balance of wildlife in the ravine was different. Coyotes only moved in much later ... beginning several decades ago. Now all the ground birds are gone, and we seldom see red foxes any more.

 We know that there are still resident foxes. Along with raccoons, skunks, rabbits, because from time to time they'll appear on our porch late at night. There are also beavers that establish dams and lodges, and take down poplars. Night-stalking owls, mostly snowy and great barred owls come down from the boreal forest some winters when there's food shortages. Spring brings sharp-shinned hawks back to the forest from their migrations south. Great Blue Herons drop by in the spring as well, along with pairs of Mallards.

We were grateful today the weekend is over and people venturing out into the forest unfamiliar with its trails from the extended community, anxious to briefly escape lockdown were no longer in evidence this afternoon. It made for a quiet and much-appreciated tramp through the forest trails, subdued, low key, enabling us to fully take in the beauty of the landscape and our good fortune to be within it for short periods daily.