A little bit of everything fell overnight last night, starting with snow and ending with freezing rain. There was still snow down despite the freezing rain when we woke this morning. And there were cardinals, juncos and chickadees on the porch pecking at the peanuts, to be followed by squirrels. Evidence of their arrivals and departures, including those of rabbits, were clearly seen in the snow-impressions left on this busy corridor-highway leading to the porch.

 

Our morning paper deliveries, now that snow has been falling, are being placed where they belong, on the newspaper rack placed beside our front door and no longer thrown in a heap on the porch floor to be retrieved from among the piles of peanuts. A concession that will earn our paper delivery person on this route the seasonal bonus he/she deserves.

 

 

And finally, Irving is finished with the irritatingly tedious, picky job of putting all the festoons of glittery crystals looped here and there in place over the new ceiling fixture he installed in our bedroom. We've been thirty years without proper lighting in the bedroom which was fine when our eyes were younger, but now a central fixture is very useful. It took a few hours on three successive days to get it all completed, but he never flagged. I would have given it up after the first twenty minutes the very first day of trying to figure it all out. The schematic accompanying the chandelier was only marginally useful.

Now, if we want light to sparkle up the bedroom we just have to click the switch. Bedside and bureau-top lamps are all very well for muted light and bedtime reading, but a brighter light helps to distinguish what you've got folded neatly away in chests of drawers or on the shelving of the armoire that Irving built for my 40th birthday, 45 years ago.

 

 

I've finally dressed our bed for winter in silver and white. A coverlet set we've had for many years. It's fully washable which is a bonus. The silver reminds me of the appearance of the sky on overcast days like today when the sky looks like an aluminum lid. And the white of the central panel reminds me of the snow that will eventually build into a solid pack over the winter months until it reaches a height of five feet or more on the front lawn.

 

Jillie likes to station herself on the loveseat in our bedroom while I'm busy making up the bed and tidying up the bathroom after breakfast. It's when I'm finished and doing my daily exercises that Jackie comes running up to remind me that if I'm at that point, then it's time to get ready to pack up for the ravine. He isn't fond of the bathroom. I use vinegar quite a lot in cleaning up, and I suppose the odour lingers; any kind of smell like that affects him.

 

And then we were off to the ravine. This time Irving put a very old pair of MEC cleats on my boots anticipating that this peculiar weather system might produce a difficult hiking terrain. Which it did. I was still anxious to see if we could find the cleats I had lost three days back. By the time we left the house the rain had stopped. We dressed the puppies in their winter raincoats and boots. The thermometer read a mild 0C and snow was steadily dripping off all surfaces.

 

The street was thick with slush and ice and stubborn snow piles. Once we entered the ravine we were pelted from above by thick drops of freezing rain the mild temperature was nudging off the forest canopy, so up with our jacket hoods. The icy indentations we coped with for the previous several days had been ameliorated; now our boots just kept slipping and sliding into mushy ice-melted depressions. Ankles twisting now and again as we proceeded.

It didn't take long for this set of cleats to begin slithering sideways against my boots. I stopped to re-adjust the cleat for the first time, but it wouldn't be the last time on this hike of uneven snow/ice/slush as we made our way along the trail. Once again it was a little more difficult clambering uphill to gain traction on the slippery combination. Even Jackie and Jillie were slipping now and again on the sagging surface where descending amounted to a splendid opportunity to slip and tumble.

 

Actually I had taken a tumble, my feet just sliding out from under, feeling myself swiftly turning, my body surrendering to the gravitational pull of a lost balancing act. But of course I fell onto a soft, billowing, wet snowy surface, somewhat like taking a roll on a comforter. Back up in no time, with Irving busy dusting snow off me.

The heavy overcast made for a quite dark forest interior. Nearing the creek there was a more ethereal appearance, with white-grey mist rising from the water to disperse as it reached a higher level. It did take a much greater effort to complete what we would normally call a short circuit; downhill, uphill, crossing bridges, negotiating tricky trail surfaces. Fine for Jackie and Jillie who always enjoy all their forest traipses, a bit physically demanding for us. Glad we had the opportunity to get out to enjoy the forest ambiance, and glad to return home.

 

As we walked down the street toward our house once out of the ravine, me cursing one of the cleats that kept slipping sideways, I happened to look at a neighbour's lawn which still had those little colourful flags denoting gas works and other utilities' locations when digging is taking place. Beside a small yellow flag near the curb I noticed something black. It wasn't distinguishable as anything, but I approached, bent over and plucked at a corner to reveal the unfolding presence of my missing cleat. Found at last, not in the forest, but on the street four houses up from our own.