Notch up another cold day on the way to winter. We had to change the batteries in our electronic thermometers, one sitting in the backyard, the other at the front of the house. In the morning both read -8C, but by afternoon both pooped out, the batteries exhausted. The light snow that fell yesterday morning amounted to no more than 4.4cm, but the snow removal company we contract with decided to come out and clear off the driveways even though the contract argues that they'll come out only for a minimum of 5cm. There are three such companies doing business on the street; the one we contract with offers a rate break for seniors and it has the most business on the street.

 

That leaves us to shovel the capacious front walkways and the ones in the backyard. When light snow falls, shovels are fine; when a snowfall goes well beyond a dusting Irving hauls out his snow thrower for the occasion. Our neighbours to the right last year conceived the notion that they would take it upon themselves to shovel out our front walkways. We had no idea at first what was happening, and thought it might be the snow removal company, but we only contract for the driveway, not the walkways.

 

And then we discovered it was our neighbours shovelling us out. We thanked them, and expostulated that we're still able to handle it, but they kept insisting all last winter. It'll be interesting to see whether they feel the need to do the same this winter. We've been neighbours for thirty years, have always been comfortable with one another, but hardly feel we need to impose ourselves on them. On the other hand, it does make you feel grateful to have such thoughtful people living next door.

Preparing to get out with Jackie and Jillie for our usual ravine hike this afternoon and taking our cue from the cold prevailing with light wind and a low, white overcast sealing the sky over the landscape, we dressed in layers underneath our winter jackets. And brought out the little rubber booties that have turned out to be the most reliable for the puppies' tiny feet hitting loose snow on freezing days; unlike the cumbersome mukluck-(muttluks) that make them uncomfortable and tend to fall off in the snow, these remain reliably in place, sheltering their little paws from the cold.

 

When we brought them back from our ravine hike yesterday their feet were covered in hard little iceballs, and they were absent today, unable to stuck to the rubber boots, though there were a few on the hair above their paws. Yesterday we had to gently pry iceballs out of interstices between their pads, which were making them dreadfully uncomfortable while we were out on the trails. Today, no issues at all with the boots.

The creek is now running full, clear and icy. Though we saw no dogs in it today, those that are accustomed to dunking into the creek as a treat when they rush off and away from their humans to dash down from the forest heights into the ravine, continue to do so. How they withstand the frigid water in the winter atmosphere is beyond us. We're just happy J&J have no interest in following suit.

It's at this time of year when we're in the forest that there is little distinction in colour between the sky and the forest floor, covered with snow. It's as though each reflects the other. On such days when the sun hides behind a low cloud cover and the atmosphere smells of impending snow, there is an even monotone of silvery-white in the sky that is a mirror-image of the landscape below, smothered in snow. The quintessential winter landscape.