Yesterday I thought I'd go for a poor man's paella. Skip the elaborate preparations and simplify the basic dish to produce a casserole containing everything we'd need to make a complete and good-tasting dinner. Since we had chicken the night before, I decided to only include fish. A fish paella. And to confine the fish to two types, no shellfish per se, only shrimp and cubed haddock. It does take a bit of pre-preparation but in a sense the dish cooks itself after the preliminaries.

Which means 2 garlic cloves and an onion chopped then briefly stirred over a low heat in olive oil. Adding four small tomatoes chopped beforehand and a  half bell pepper chopped as well, stirring until all the ingredients become a slurry. Adding pepper, oregano and basil, about a teaspoon each. Then dumping 2/3 cup of short-grain rice, and stirring it, sprinkling a teaspoon of saffron over, and adding a cup of hot water with a chicken bouillon cube dissolved in it.

That all went into the casserole dish, a pottery dish that our youngest son made many years ago -- I have quite a collection of them actually; for a scientist he has a multitude of interests and pottery is one of them -- and that's when the fish was added, cubed haddock, and a bunch of shrimp -- everything covered with foil and popped into the oven at 325F. By then it was time to prepare the evening meal for Jackie and Jillie. They had to wait, though, because Irving had other things in mind.

Radio Canada CBC always plays golden oldies on Saturday night and the sound of those old tunes grips him. He has fond memories of us as young teens dancing to the music of our times, and it's a must with him that we dance for at least a half-hour while those memorable songs are broadcast. He can recall all the old names of the entertainers that I cannot, remembers the words to the songs, can identify each song from its first introductory notes. I love dancing with him, he's a smooth dancer and it takes me back, too. Truth is, I love any chance I get to hug and hold on to him and that's as good a time as any.

Jackie and Jillie peek their little heads around the corner wondering what the hold-up in their dinner is. While we've been dancing they've been racing about the house after one another, madly dashing everywhere, stopping long enough for a brief tussle, then going berserk again. It's a kind of ritual of excitement they engage in before mealtimes. And in fact they'd been pretty muscular about ripping about the house and the backyard all day because we hadn't gone out for a hike through the forest trails as we usually do.

This morning I was about to make pancakes for breakfast when Irving said I should try making French toast with the challah he had baked a few days earlier in his bread machine. His bread machine, I wouldn't know what to do with it, and I prefer kneading bread dough manually, personally. I was doubtful, but went ahead and it turned out to be the best French toast we've had. We usually eat a robust breakfast and dinner, but we never, ever eat lunch and haven't for decades, feeling it wholly unnecessary, extraneous to our needs.

So we did decide to get out this afternoon, after all. Despite the cold, the wind and our experience of weekends being packed with area residents. By the time we got out into the ravine the temperature had risen to 11C, though it felt colder thanks to the wind, but on the positive side of the ledger, the bluest of clear blue skies prevailed with the sun streaming its warmth over everything. Jackie and Jillie were glad to be out in the ravine and as luck had it, we only came across a few other people and dogs, so we speculated that the cold has kept people indoors.

Cold it most certainly was, and while there was good shelter within the forest interior from the wind, it doesn't take much wind at that temperature to make things pretty frosty. I could feel my cheeks being pinched from the cold, and my nostrils taking shelter by crouching inside themselves. But oh, the beauty of the landscape! Incomparable. Snow still lingers on the trees. And the cold has succeeded in icing over the creek. Even the rapids are now frozen, and nothing moves within that can be seen.