There are certain times of day when we don't answer the telephone. Invariably they're the most awkward times of the day when the telephone rings imperiously insisting on attention. We used to have that program, caller ID, but found it useless when it didn't work for cellphone calls or calls across Canada. And it's been our experience that even before we get out of bed in the morning, and around mealtimes the calls come in, usually from overseas, hawking services.

 

 

This morning when it rang while we were having breakfast we just let it ring. No messages left is usually a trademark of those calls. But then another call came in directly afterward, so Irving answered. It was Mohinder, both times, our neighbour up the street. Would it be convenient for him to come over in an hour? Sure.

He brought along a large, heavy drawer that slid under a table. He and Rajindar had bought a new dining room set of furniture and the sliding drawer sits under the table. Trouble is, Mohinder who isn't a tall man, just about average height, can't get  his knees under the drawer when he sits at the table. So he wanted it cut down. Because of the hardware installed under the table he decided to return the ends of the drawer and dispose of the rest of it. And Irving has the equipment to do the sawing.

 

We had decided yesterday after being out with Jackie and Jillie through the forest trails that the wind and humidity made the -8C temperature feel pretty nasty. And if today  was going to be much colder we'd give our usual hike through the trails a pass. The temperature dipped to -23C last night. The rafters were clucking their disapproval.

By morning it was -17C and when mid-afternoon rolled around the atmosphere had warmed to a Polar Bear's benign -14C. But since the wind had abated and we had full sun, we thought we'd get out anyway. This time I wore the warmest of my winter jackets and was well padded beneath with sweatered layers. Back to the boots again for Jackie and Jillie, and their heavy winter jackets.

 

 

We hadn't reckoned with the overnight heavy rain two nights back followed by a flash freeze having left a thick layer of ice on the trails, made all the more irritating by the frozen deep boot depressions made when the weather was still mild. Yesterday's snow flurries had covered the ice and stuck to it, making for a fairly solid, non-slippery foundation. But today that thin layer of snow had mostly gone, taken away by the wind and people's boots.

So it was really slippery. On one of our ascents to an upper trail, I had just about reached the height when one of my cleated boots slipped and I did a bit of a pirouette, my torso turning, the other boot holding fast, and I ended up not on my back or sprawled on my front, but just on my knees. In that position with ice everywhere it was awkward returning to a standing position, but when I did, no harm done.

The creek that had been running free of ice and snow yesterday, the water crystal-clear and frigid, is now once again trapped in a building ice cover. The ice will once again be firmly entrenched over the creek and a new snowfall will plump itself over the ice to disguise the stream so that visually there will be no differentiating it from the forest floor undulating on either side of the trails, fluffed with this winter's remaining snowpack.

Jackie and Jillie take no visible notice of all these winter transformations. Each time they're exposed to the ravine it's a fresh adventure. They never know who they'll come across but they're prepared to challenge all oncomers, canine or  human. The forest is their personal playground, and they're familiar with every centimetre of it, and proud that nature has chosen them as gatekeepers and environmental experts prepared to perform their stewardship duties with distinction.