It's really difficult for most people to fathom the moral degradation of a world leader who makes a depraved decision to mount a military attack against another nation, a neighbouring country with which it has had a long association. It is even more difficult to understand how his decision could carry millions of his country's citizens to support that invasion. All the more so when there are so many Ukrainians domiciled in Russia. Even absent that fact, that Russians and Ukrainians, people of an ethnic Slavic union, should tolerate that level of disunity amongst themselves. 

While most of the world condemns Vladimir Putin's decision to invade Ukraine, creating utter chaos in the deaths of thousands of innocent people, destroying cities, reducing life to a scrabble for existence in the shortage of security and life-sustaining supplies, the man responds what conflict? Merely a 'special operation' to clear fascists and Nazis out of Ukraine, when by his very actions he demonstrates himself to be a fascist free of any moral underpinnings.

 

And here we are, living comfortable lives of security in a country known for its amiability and receptiveness to the presence of people from all over the world finding new lives as Canadians, escaping poverty, political instability, oppression, gang warfare and conflict. In most of Europe and North America and elsewhere in the civilized world people are free to live their lives without government trampling on their human rights. We are singularly fortunate. 

It is no easy matter for a population to rise in anger and disgust and rejection of corrupt, dangerous governments eager to sow international discord and to have the blood of innocent people on their hands. Particularly in a country that has always known a level of instability surrounding ideology and poverty. One despairs that the world at large will ever be peaceful, fair in judgement and equal opportunities to all its peoples.

 

We look at the news, one more tragedy to add to the oeuvre of humanity's misjudgements and manipulation for advantage one over the other. A sense of hopelessness descends and one becomes tired of knowing of and looking in at these human failures. The only remedy to facing reality is to deplore what occurs and get on with our lives, although thoughts of concern and offense at what is happening simmer in the background.

 

Our concerns are small and routine; that, above all, we remain healthy and get on with life. Taking each day as it comes and appreciating what it offers. Making the most of our surroundings and circumstances that we can in full appreciation of our good fortune. Yesterday afternoon Irving brought out his trusty old bread-making machine that he hasn't used in years. There was a time when he would bake bread regularly, experimenting with various kinds, and just enjoying doing it. I'd offer to bake bread for him in the conventional way by raising and kneading dough by hand, but he wanted to enjoy bread-making himself.

 

So yesterday he looked at his collection of recipe books and chose a simple French bread. It's all entirely mechanical and to him a bit of a miracle. I busied myself instead making dinner; spaghetti and meatballs accompanied by honeyed carrot coins. That satisfies both of us, and Jackie and Jillie as well.  As darkness fell last night, freezing rain began falling. Which turned at some point during the night to plain rain and continued on into the early afternoon when the sun made a brief presence

 

When I had finished all the laundry and Irving had spent several hours in his workshop with his latest stained glass production, we assured Jackie and Jillie that we would be able, after all, to get out for a hike through the soggy, icy ravine. And so we did. And unlike most of this week where we saw a paltry few others on the trails, and some days no one at all, there were a good number of dogs who sped their way over to us, led by Jackie and Jillie's usual full-throated announcements of their barking presence.

Despite the rain and the elevated temperature that pushed all the way up to 5C, the trails remain icy. We were a ble to get fairly good grips on the ice thanks to our cleats, but in some areas where the trails were glossy with ice, Jackie and Jillie, through they try to evade really slippery areas were doing a fair amount of slipping themselves. The sun was out for a short period while we were negotiating the trails, but soon left for the day.

 

Still, it was milder and the sight of the ravine's hillsides clearing themselves of snow is encouraging. We've seen a number of flocks of geese on their return migration, honking in a triumph of 'We're back!' in the past few days. Robins, cardinals and chickadees have been beside themselves with joy at the approach of spring, treating us with their bright and melodious spring songs.

 

COVID appears to be hungry for sustained notoriety, unwilling to surrender its hard-won place in the panoply of natural disasters plaguing humanity. It has no intention, it seems obvious, in vacating its majestic throne, harrowing and terrorizing humanity. And Omicron, its grandchild, has been meticulously groomed to ensure its enhanced infectiousness carries on its predecessors' tradition.

 

So, now that we've seen a waning of the original SARS-CoV-2 virus, and enjoyed a bit of relaxed normalcy, we're jolted back to the reality that this pathogen is craftier, more cunning that mere humans might have attributed to an unseen menace. March break is over. It's been several weeks that Ontario and other provinces relaxed their COVID-protective mandates.

 

What do we hear? Why is it a surprise? We have, after all, seen this scenario played out over the past two years and more, quite a few exasperating times. But, there it is. The health authorities that gave us ample warning that our politicians were a little too keen to be restored to the good graces of the electorate by lifting almost all precautions against COVID infections, must be feeling pretty smug in that 'I-told-you-so' way that we humans cannot resist.

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Infection numbers on the rise. Wastewater tests have shown that for over a week in preliminary warnings that we'd seen be wobbling back to square one. And here we are! Welcome back to more acute measures in avoidance of COVID....

 

We decided to have pizza for dinner last night. I had made the dough and left it to rise in the late afternoon. Making pizza is a shared enterprise in this family. Irving slices and dices the vegetables and the pepperoni, cuts up the anchovies and arranges them over the dough and the tomato paste, herbs and seasonings I've sprinkled over, and Parmesan/Mozzarella I've shredded onto it all. Then, the colourful, finishing touch of the vegetables.

 

Many years ago, when my-then microwave oven gave up the ghost, Irving came home one day with a much-larger replacement. This one had an intriguing-looking 'pizza drawer'. Which we began  using instead of our conventional oven. Pizza bakes faster at a higher temperature in the oven. It takes fully 35 minutes for our pizzas to reach the desired doneness in the pizza drawer, but we're pleased with the results. Just have to wait a little longer....

 

Although when we came down for breakfast this morning the thermometer read -10C under a sunny sky, by the time we were ready to get Jackie and Jillie out to the ravine for an afternoon hike through the forest, it read 1.4C. So I was hopeful that conditions on the trails would be improved over yesterday. I actually felt quite trepidatious when we set out yesterday, knowing how icy the trails would be.

We've both suffered falls over the years in the ravine. And the last one I had in there, on a spur trail with a bad upward angle caused a lot of physical damage. Damage that has become permanent, and which acts up from time to time. I definitely don't want a repeat. It was the awkward way I slipped, twisting and slamming my right side against a tree trunk. I could hear and feel my right shoulder responding to the wrench. It took months before I had reasonable mobility in that arm, and full mobility remains restrained. The aches and pains transferred to my underarms and my chest wall. Not at all pleasant. And from time to time the aches reassert their presence.

 

We soon discovered that for the most part there was no improvement in the trails. Those parts that were super-icy yesterday remained that way today, although in other areas the ice had become rotten enough to give us secure footage. Even Jackie and Jillie were slipping on the ice in some places, and they don't appreciate that feeling of insecurity. Enough so that they will seek out more secure-in-appearance areas, bypassing the glossy-ice areas where they can.

We managed to avoid slipping, and had a pleasant, albeit shorter circuit through the trails this afternoon. By then the sun had mostly withdrawn. The forecast is for 14C tomorrow; unimaginable, given today's relative cold. Overnight we're expecting freezing rain, and tomorrow, plain rain. Both the higher temperature and the rain will help the forest cast off the remaining snowpack, so that's good news.

 

I imagine the capital city of any nation is where quite a few citizens are employed by the government and are fairly well off. Ottawa is one of these. Civil servants tend to be well paid, their employment well protected in stable democracies. When we first moved to this city fifty years ago from our original home in Toronto neither city had many visible minorities. There was a lot of immigrant stock in Toronto, not so many in Ottawa, but all that has changed enormously.

 

It's been said that Toronto, the country's largest city, and Vancouver as well, though one imagines most cities in the country too, are populated by people who have arrived as immigrants or refugees from all countries of the world. When I was  young, I thought it odd to hear foreign languages on the street, now people who have arrived from places as diverse as Vietnam and Italy, China and Lebanon, Somalia and Syria, speak those 'exotic' languages, along with English.

 

On the street we live on alone -- not a very long street -- there are families from France, Russia, Hong Kong, Ukraine, Egypt, Britain and Bangladesh. This is a middle-class neighbourhood, but nearby in the greater community there are large areas of subsidized housing for lower-middle-class families. There is wealth here and there is poverty. The wealth is visible, the poverty is not.

There have been area food banks collecting non-perishable foodstuffs for distribution to those who qualify for community assistance as long as I can remember. In the last decade, however, demand for the services of the food bank has increased enormously. When we first began contributing to the food banks there weren't many people making deposits in the large holding cages held in the vestibule areas of local supermarkets to be collected for food bank distribution to those in need. Now, and particularly since the pandemic arrived, those holding areas are so full of offerings, I have difficulty finding a place to leave my own food selections.

 

Forty years ago I might spend $5 of my weekly shopping on food for the food bank. Now, it's closer to $20 weekly.  We did our weekly shopping today and I always keep a bag set apart to fill with products that go through the cash register and are left for the food bank. Today I chose four boxes of macaroni-and-cheese dinner, four cans of vegetable soup, two of chicken-noodle soup, four cans of tuna, and four of sardines. And then struggled to find a place to put my bag among the gathered food products others had contributed.

 

It was -10C this morning, a little less icy than yesterday morning. The temperature rose eventually to -1.5C under sunny skies. But there was a bitter wind that made the day seem infinitely colder than what it actually was. We debated between us whether to give the ravine another bypass, knowing that the ice that packed the forest trails would have hardened with the drop in temperature these past few days. Balance had already been compromised when the temperature was above freezing, by the snow melting during the day then firming up to hard, slick ice overnight as temperatures fell again.

But we reasoned we couldn't possibly miss getting Jackie and Jillie out for a romp through the ravine three days running. So, off we went. In some areas, particularly on the hillsides, more of the forest floor can be seen revealed. But the ice on the trails remains wide, deep and solid, covering the entire width of the trails, and the give of the previous days was gone.  Hard, solid ice was left. Still, we were wearing cleats, and decided to meet the challenge of descending into the ravine over a long hillside trail of unrelenting ice.

 

Our cleated boots bit into the ice just enough for stability in the descent, and did the same on the various ascents we also negotiated. We took our time, being careful to scope out areas that looked more promising than others, mindful of nasty falls we've taken in the past, some of which resulted in enough physical damage that we paid for it in pain and discomfort lasting years.

We weren't surprised at not coming across the presence of others. We admit to ourselves we're slightly lunatic to take these chances, and more reasonable, danger-averse people won't. When we finished our circuit and were just heading back up the first hill we start out on in descending into the forest, along came a six-month old golden retriever puppy named Sully, beside himself with joy and anticipation of being given cookies.

Some time later his human caught up while Sully busied himself with cookies and racing at Jackie and Jillie. Whose reciprocations were fairly grumpy. The young man who had introduced himself to us months ago, as someone who had once, years earlier, lived on the street adjacent ours as a teen, and now moved back as a young married adult, kept sliding backward as he attempted to mount a side trail that had once given me grief and that we now religiously avoid...

When we arrived back home I prepared a small bread dough. For something a little lighter for dinner tonight. Pizza. Last night's dinner was a little more on what we call the heavy side. I had roasted a Cornish game hen, made an egg-noodle pudding to go with it, along with asparagus. 

 

November and March are both ungenerous, grumpy months and both critical transition periods. November tends to be grey and overcast. Most colourful fall foliage has faded and fallen, it's cold and windy and dreary, leaving us to anticipate the wonderland beauty of a snowy landscape. By the time March rolls around we've had enough of winter. The snow is grimy and as it melts it reveals the presence of unsavoury detritus. It also, in the melting stage, becomes unstable and denaturized, turning to hard ice as it melts when days ricochet back and forth from mild to icy.

 

We're in one of those periods when November conspires with grudgingly departing winter to eke out what's left of the month in miserable atmospheric conditions. The thermometer plunged to -16C last night with a cutting wind and we were glad to find some warmth in bed where Jackie and Jillie earnestly convinced us we should be at half-past midnight. When Irving took them out to the backyard preparatory to going up to bed, there was the rabbit, in one corner of the fence, until he dashed by a startled Jillie.

 

 

When we came down for breakfast this morning, there was the rabbit, on the porch, ignoring the carrots and daintily selecting, like the squirrels, the chipmunks, the crows, the chickadees, the cardinals and the raccoons, peanuts. Peanuts seem to be every creature's favourite. For years when I used to take unshelled peanuts out to the ravine to deposit them in very specific spots in the crooks and hollows of trees, awaited by squirrels and crows, we would watch the crows watching us, then selecting peanuts to crack them open on hard surfaces.

It was -12C first thing in the morning, windy and flurrying which continued until the thermometer struggled all the way up to -10C. That is cold for March, but March often boasts it can be more miserable than that, if it wants to. Even, on occasion, influencing April. We're expecting March and Winter to decamp in several days' time, however, taking the icy cold and blasting winds with them, and hope not to be disappointed, but we're accustomed to it.

 

We console ourselves with comfort meals. Like last night, when we had a lentil-tomato soup, with whole-wheat-cheese focaccia bread, chunks of Gruyere cheese and mangoes for dessert. I tend to use an immersion blender with lentil soup, to reduce the chunks of cooked vegetables and the lentils to a thick slurry state. It was, truth to tell, very warming and flavourful. Oh, and tea, cup after cup of sweet, lemony tea. It's all I ever drink.

 

Today, of course is house-cleaning day, and it takes hours to get it all done. I take occasional breaks now and again, but don't really need to. I just like to peek at what's going on in social media. Although we took Jackie and Jillie out repeatedly to the backyard through the day, we bypassed a walk with them. No point trying for the ravine, since the hilly trails will be completely frozen over and too dangerous to navigate; we're not quite that foolhardy. As for walking on the street, for a trip 'around the block'; it just has no appeal for us.

When late afternoon rolls around Jackie and Jillie visit with me as I change from my 'work' clothes to leisure clothing. The long wool skirt I was changing into didn't smell to either of them like a hike through the ravine, but it was their vegetable salad they were interested in and anxious about. We soon fixed that.

There was an article a few days ago in our local newspaper which has focused lately -- unsurprisingly, since Canada has a very large Ukrainian-Canadian population, and the paper has been including items linked to the Russian invasion of Ukraine, the horrible loss of life and civic infrastructure, on what the Ukrainian community in Canada is experiencing and doing. An Orthodox Ukrainian Catholic church organized a group perogy klatsch, where women of Ukrainian heritage and other volunteers would make thousands of perogies, and they would be sold to the public to raise funds to be sent to Ukraine to aid in their existential struggle.

The accompanying photographs brought back memories to me of when I was a young child, watching my mother make verenishka. That's what she called them, a leftover from her early life growing up with her family in the Pale of Settlement, Russia. When my mother came to Canada as a very young woman not yet in her 20s, she could speak Russian, Polish and Ukrainian. And then she learned to speak English; haltingly and heavily accented when I was very young, but perfectly by the time I was considerably older.

Her cooking and baking reflected her European background as a diaspora Jew. Wherever Jews lived in the world -- and that was everywhere -- they included dishes reflective of the country they settled in, among their Yiddish-flavoured panoply of recipes. When we were first married, Irving thoughtfully went out to procure for his wife-and-cook a tome that would prove helpful over the years to come: The Jewish-American cookbook. About 65 years ago.

That newspaper story brought back memories. Of my mother making verenishkas and of my own efforts later, when our children were young. I had completely forgotten -- it's so long ago -- that I had made them myself. So I hauled out that old cookbook and looked to find the recipe. Quite unlike anything that ethnic Ukrainians might recognize, given its Yiddishe twist. But the more I thought about it, I realized I had also used a recipe more akin to the original, which had gained credit with the children fifty years ago. I'll have to give it a try again.

This morning we were confronted with a heavily clouded sky, much colder temperature and snow flurries. No question in the shape the ravine trails were in yesterday they'd be treacherous today. In the interests of preserving life and limb, it would be an untenable proposition to hie ourselves over there to test our luck. So no ravine hike today. The return of -4C, an icy wind and no sun makes for a miserable spring day, one that would harden the ice-slushed trails making them too dangerous to negotiate.

Last night we had enjoyed our dinner with a piping-hot vegetable soup warming our bones. The comfort food theme we embraced during this return to winter included French toast for breakfast, a favourite with Jackie and Jillie. For this evening, I've got a lentil-tomato soup simmering and baked a whole-wheat-cheese focaccia bread. So the kitchen is warmly redolent of good eating fragrances.

The temperature keeps falling, to an expected -16 overnight. And flurries of snow once again dapple the emerging dusk of early evening.

 

It's too early to tell yet, but it looks as though our ailing Corkscrew Hazel is putting out its early-spring catkins. My concern is whether those catkins will appear dangling from the upper branches of its far reaches. Last summer, battered by summer after summer of predatory Japanese beetles took its toll. Only the bottom half of the tree leafed out. We hesitate to cut those thick, heavy branches that were unproductive indicating the end of their lives. So we'll give them time to see if the tree is able to recover. Last year there was no invasion of the beetles, unlike the previous years. Perhaps the tree needed a rest. It's possible it will survive now that it's no longer challenged.

Other than that, not much sign of renewed life yet anywhere in the garden. I do see a little red colouration on some rose canes. It will be a time yet before anything emerges from the still-frozen soil. And there is still hard-packed snow and ice left in some areas of the garden and the backyard in general. Even though it's ahead, as it usually tends to be, of the melt occurring in the front of the house where the gardens remain buried in larger burdens of snow and ice.

Yet another overcast day dawned today. But no rain yet, although the forecast is for overnight rain that will turn to snow as the temperature plunges to -6C. Today though, the mid-afternoon high rose nicely enough to 8C. The damp atmosphere and wind made it seem much colder. And since there was threat of rain for the afternoon, Jackie and Jillie wore their rainjackets going out to the ravine this afternoon.

Yesterday's icy trails are somewhat more relaxed today. There's a lot more denaturized ice and slushy conditions on the trails. Which, though awkward for intentions of striding along the trails, is a lot safer as far as footing is concerned. In some places we sloshed along the trails. Uphill meant a bit of a struggle, since slipping backward becomes a constant, ascending a melting snowpack.

It's like plodding one's way through sand or a foot-sucking marsh. No problem for Jackie and Jillie; once they gain the top of a hill they look about, scrutinizing the lay of the land to make certain there are no lurking threats. They wait until we breach the conditions that make the climb a scrabble, and then we decide; short circuit or long circuit today?

The consensus decision went for a long circuit, since the ambiance was mild and there was nothing of any urgency awaiting our arrival back home. It's Saturday, after all, a day of rest and leisure! Once out of the ravined portion of the forest, attaining the upper flats, the extent of the snowmelt is far more pronounced. The air at that level tends to be somewhat less cool and melting of the snow is accelerated. It all runs downhill to the creek below.

And it's at that level, out of the ravine, that we tend to come across others out on the trails with their dogs. Where Jackie and Jillie renew their daily acquaintances with other forest-hiking dogs they've become familiar with. And we, in turn, stand and speak briefly with those dogs' people. Exchanging pleasantries, opinions and satisfaction with the timely departure of winter.

In Vancouver, our son's backyard flowering quince is a tree, and in full spring flower, it is utterly magnificent. Here in Ottawa, our two Japanese quince are shrubs and though their flowers are exquisitely lovely they don't make anywhere near the show the tree-size quince presents. In a week his tree will be embroidered with those beautiful flowers. It will take at least another month for ours to begin flowering; so much for growing zones.

Yesterday I asked Irving what he would prefer for dinner, a fish chowder or fish'n (oven-baked) chips, and he chose chowder. It does make a comforting and good-tasting meal. Irrespective of his choice a vegetable salad accompanies one and the other. I used sole, my preference fish for chowder, although haddock does very well too. This time I thought I'd add chopped red pepper and green peas for colour and added taste, and it worked very well, with the chopped onion, garlic, celery and potatoes.

Today turned out yet another heavily overcast day, and damp, but the temperature edged up nicely to 8C by afternoon, so no complaints. Once again, I asked Irving what he'd like for a baked dessert and as usual he looked right back at me and said 'what're you thinking of baking?' I was thinking of chocolate-mocha cupcakes, so that's what I ended up baking. Large cupcakes. I have a six-cup and a number of 12-baking pans, but usually use the six-cup, so we end with a half-dozen. During the course of the following days it's a challenge for us to eat them all, and we usually don't.

But I love baking, and I always like to have something new and different, and so it goes. 

By afternoon it was raining again, but lightly. So we set off for our ravine hike in raingear, hoping that we wouldn't encounter any serious rain, and we didn't. Just as we were rounding back on our circuit, rain began falling again, more of a light drizzle, so none of us got wet. It would be Jackie and Jillie that would, since our rainjackets come with hoods and they're annoyed with hoods hanging over their heads.

The snowmelt is ongoing, and it will be for at least another month. What happens when the snowpack melts is that it reveals layers of ice beneath. And where snow and ice are compressed by continual traffic, the trails become slick with ice. And today they were that, in spades, despite the milder temperature. Ascents and descents become tricky, but we're fairly careful and moderately sure-footed with the cleats. Without them it would be asking for trouble.

These are the prevailing conditions that convince many people to stay out of the ravine until the snow is completely gone and the trails have dried. But such conditions don't faze regular  trail hikers who have over the years, like us, become accustomed to these transitory seasonal conditions and have a better idea of how to handle them. Jackie and Jillie saw no other dogs out and about and as a result, we were spared their frantic barking fits.

Which meant that they enjoyed their leisurely  hike through the woods, and so did we. Back at home, as soon as we wash their little paws and get ourselves in order, they wait expectantly by the kitchen sink for me to cut up vegetables for their mid-afternoon snack. Which consists of chopped bell pepper, cucumber, snap beans and tomatoes. And then they collapse into a peaceful nap on the sofa; dreaming no doubt, about dinner yet to come...

 

It takes a while to adjust to reality, even if it is the norm for us, for our little intimate family unit to be reduced down to four again. Driving home from the airport yesterday afternoon we were quietly contemplating how quickly a week goes by. The house seems too still. It is remembering that when our son was with us there was more activity, more voices, more gaiety and more serious conversations.

We keep expecting -- through a reflex of so-recent memory -- him to appear suddenly. Coming downstairs from the library where he set up his computer and his papers and was busy constantly editing other authors' papers for publication, and finishing up one of his own. Mealtimes have reverted from two people turning their heads in attention to a third party's considered opinions -- not necessarily synchronized with ours -- and discussions that followed, to the more usual combination of casual, light conversation.

Our attention has swerved once again from its focus on two little dogs and one another, to a concern not to miss anything about the presence of our son, with us again. Always at the back of my mind, a ticking clock whiling away the hours until his all-too-soon departure. A little wormhole of a nagging repetitive reminder to live with the moment, not in fear of the imminent future. 

When we returned from the airport we felt relieved that we had gone out much earlier in the day for our usual ravine hike. We had him with us, then. Neither of us felt much like embarking on a hike at that point. I always find it helpful though to be busy, doing things. So I turned my attention to preparing dinner; a cheese quiche for a change. Light enough, flavourful enough and satisfying enough for both of us. 

An email awaited us this morning. And although it needed no response, a simple reassurance that all went well, one was sent. Then we went back upstairs to shower before breakfast. It had rained all night, heavily, interspersed with some freezing rain. According to the forecast we were supposed to have up to 5cm of new snow. Instead, we had a sodden landscape, the rain carving away a little more of the snowpack.

After changing bed linen, doing the weekly laundry, we all went out for a jaunt through the ravine. We were, in fact, a trifle less jaunty than usual. Once again, the ravine's hillsides presented with more snow shaved away, and larger patches of the forest floor visible. The creek down below could be heard from the hilltop we descended to enter the ravine and the forest. Fed anew by both rain and snowmelt, since the temperature had risen to 4.6C, the creek roared down its winding course through the forest.

The trails were more icy, more slippery, the ambient atmosphere decidedly springlike. No one would sensibly enter the ravine to course through the trails without cleats on these early spring days. We saw a few acquaintances out as we were, appreciative of the changing landscape and the opportunity to stretch our limbs. Because of the heavy overcast threatening rain we were all geared in rainjackets, but none fell. In days to come we may yet have a snowfall or two, but Nature cast her de for spring, and spring it is....