Of course, the older we get the more aware we are of external temperatures. We always tend now to feel that winters are colder than they once were, but it isn't the winter cold, it's we ourselves that are different. I can easily recall past winters of successive freezing days of -20C. That would be as nothing to us back then, if that was the high for the day by afternoon -- we'd just dress a little warmer and out we'd go to explore the out-of-doors in a natural setting.

It's seemed to us this year that we've had quite unusually cold days, but if we really think about it, we haven't, really. And it hasn't been just this year, but the past dozen winters at all. No days yet this winter where the high for the afternoon was anything like -20C -- likely -14C was the coldest. Yesterday we were out for our daily ravine circuit and it was -7C, with a light wind. Despite which I could feel the cold penetrating my clothing -- three layers under my down-filled winter jacket. And when the wind picked up, I knew it.

Leaving the house dressed in those layers I feel physically constrained; soon forgotten once I'm out on the forest trails. Jackie and Jillie don't seem to mind that they're dressed in a sweater, a coat over that, and then their winter harness which is heavily padded, and lastly their boots. Button, their predecessor, was so irritated by having to wear 'clothing' she would sometimes roll about, legs kicking furiously, trying to get herself out of a sweater. Eventually she just accepted the ritual of winter garb. Riley, our toy poodle would began shivering uncontrollably once September arrived. That's when he needed to wear light little sweaters even in the  house and then he'd be comfortable.

Today we dressed a little more carefully. We've been informed through the mid-range weather forecast that for the next week or so we'll be in a cold-weather spiral right across Canada; no province will be exempt from the joy of below-freezing temperatures. Our forecasted highs for Friday and Saturday to be -14C at the warmest part of the day. On the other hand, we've found that the colder weather has convinced casual ravine hikers that there are many other things they'd really, really prefer doing other than tramping through the cold wintry woods, and while we sympathize, we're also grateful to have the trails abandoned by them.

 

It's been actually an absolutely gorgeous day, despite the cold. The wind, for the most part, was behaving. And the sun -- that glowing, life-giving sun, already changing from winter-mode to that of spring in its intensity having becoming brighter and warmer -- illuminated the landscape brilliantly, gifting the snowpack with a soft billowy appearance. 

We noticed several anomalies; one, a pine sapling not long for life. All its branches completely bare, no clusters of needles -- wait, there was one healthy, deep green cluster of needles on the otherwise expiring little pine. Trees do what they can to prolong their lives in surprising ways, and this little sapling about five feet in height, was hanging on to life by the merest thread.

Similarly, though most ferns recede into the soil with the onset of winter, some are hardy enough to retain their green fronds under the snowpack. Moss has a tendency to do the same. And so does lichen. They're incredibly hardy, able to withstand the most freezing exposure for prolonged periods of time and come to no harm whatever. Nature provisions her creatures in all manner of ways to ensure survival, and the fittest, as the saying goes, do.