Usually by mid-November we'll have been greeted by at the very least, snow flurries. Occasionally, three-quarters through the month we'll have received a substantial snow storm, and succeeding days will be cold enough to ensure the snow that falls is there for the season, forming the beginning of the season's snowpack. Its presence will cheer people, particularly children, with the confidence that by Christmas there will be a formidable foundation of snow. There have been times when after such a snowfall, snow forts, igloos and a here-for-the-duration snowman will appear.

Doesn't look that way this year. November is teasing us, unwilling to be viewed any longer as predictable. It's taken on a new persona as a prankster-month. Yesterday there was ample wind and chill in the air, despite occasional visits from the sun. Cold enough to really bundle up or  regret it when you're in the middle of a long walk and nowhere near home to fortify yourself with extra layers.

Last night the sky was clear, the heavens sent its starry constellations blinking down at us through the dark velvet atmosphere. When it's clear like that it often augers bone-chilling cold. Yesterday's high of 5C turned into 16C today and despite overcast there was little wind so the calm atmosphere felt entirely comfortable with light jackets.

 

Last night we appreciated a substantial dinner to warm us up. For a change we had breaded chicken livers, fried onions, mashed potatoes and carrots and green beans for dinner. There are some meals that Irving kind of picks at, moving food around on his plate to subconsciously hope it looks as though he's had more of the meal than he really has. I try not to notice. Last night? A shining, clean plate. Old standbys are a hit.

Jackie and Jillie appear to be in better shape today. Both were ravenous, although I'm still feeding Jillie rice as a base for her meals, not kibble. They both lined up for cheese tidbits before breakfast. I mixed a scrambled egg into her morning rice and that made her happy. Jackie had his  usual, and he was fine with that. I still got up twice in the dark of the early morning hours to take Jillie outside when she got restless. But we have reason to believe she's finally recovering from her prolonged tummy upset. 

 

Now, when we make our way through the forest trails, everything is so colour-muted after the eye-dazzling excitement of the autumn colours. It's all down now, on the forest floor, slowly decaying. Still maintaining some colour and texture, but bit by bit integrating with generations of leaf mass enriching and mulching the forest soil. The bare tree trunks stand out gaunt and dark. The sun hurries over the horizon by half-past three inviting dusk to enter a half-hour later.

Since we put the clocks back an hour it actually seems as though we've lost part of the day, and in a sense we have, since daylight evaporates into night an hour earlier now. Hard not to feel cheated, but we'll gradually become accustomed, we always do.