You just cannot have everything -- at least, not all at once. There's always something to mar perfection, but we'll take whatever is on offer since in fact there's no other choice. We're back into sunny weather again. Which means the daily snowstorms are on hold, to return at a later date. So, apart from the fact that we can stop shovelling for a break in our winter routine, we can also now enjoy blue skies and a scintillatingly brilliant sun lighting up the house interior.

 

Oh, there's that little detail about clear skies and sunny days; they tend to be a whole lot colder than days of snow when the snowclouds clamp down hard on the ceiling of the world. So it's lighter, but it's also much colder. Just as well there was no wind today to top off the icy temperature.

 

The passageways in the backyard were being shovelled daily, several times through the course of a day. Which means that on either side of each path, there's a considerable snowpack. Jackie and Jillie no longer try to leap up onto that snowpack; they don't enjoy sinking deeply into it.  And they're becoming accustomed to being confined in a narrower corridor in the backyard. They are able to roam about in a far more open landscape in the forest.

Today there was no snow lashing into our faces as we hiked through the trails. The usually dim atmosphere of the forest interior was enlivened somewhat by the occasional stray bit of light gleaming through the canopy but for the most part, very little of the sun's light and warmth penetrates, held back by the shield of the forest canopy.

 

Moving right along keeps us from freezing. Irving has a furry Kulak's cap of the type worn in
Eastern Europe and he wore it today. Even when we did our grocery shopping. It always elicits comments, but he'd rather be snug and warm than 'cool'. First off this morning it was -12C, warmed up from the overnight -16C, so it felt pretty cold.

By the time we went out to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie the atmosphere had warmed nicely to -8C, and but for a few casual stops to chat briefly with friends, we kept up a steady pace. Even so by the time we arrived bak home later, our faces felt pretty pinched with cold. Cold enough to begin the process of icing over for the ravine creek. A thin layer of ice has started the process and likely by Saturday ice will have extended over the entire creek surface with openings left at the cascaded areas from rippling water.

 

We've decided that next week when the daytime highs remain at -20C, as forecast, we'll give the turns through the forest a break. It will make us feel uneasy to do that, for several consecutive days, but if it's too cold for comfort, then it's too cold to risk frostbite. Jackie and Jillie will understand.

There are all kinds of messages and nature sent us a mischievous one today, no doubt chuckling madly to herself as we faced yet another day of morning-to-evening snow. On the plus side there was little wind; on the negative side, it was cold at -8C, when Irving went out to do some minimal initial shovelling so Jackie and Jillie could get around in the backyard before breakfast.

 

We had an antidote to the glum, darkly overcast atmosphere sitting on the breakfast table, a large smiling 'Happy Face' to start the day, followed by a hot rice pudding, cooled down with lots of milk and complementary cinnamon and raisins. It hadn't stopped snowing last evening until dark descended with its usual thud, and that's when Irving went out to clean up the day's storm.

 

I had baked sesame-seed-cheese croissants to accompany a simmering pea/bean-vegetable soup, the aroma of both filling the house with the promise of a comforting break in the day once the snow clean-up was completed. To say we were surprised with yet another all-day snow event today is an understatement. That, since snow had fallen since last night's clean-up leading to another bout with the snow-thrower and shovels again after breakfast.

But that's winter here in the globe's third-coldest, snowiest world capital. I'd rather be in Ottawa than Ulan Bator or Moscow, in any event. Aside from washing the tile floors today on our regular house-cleaning day I also 'washed' the hardwood floors -- using a Swiffer product, but on my knees -- which isn't done very often. Even so, I wasn't all that much later than usual when the house-cleaning was finished and we ventured out with Jackie and Jillie for an afternoon ravine hike.

 

Surprisingly, the trails were in pretty good shape. Through the course of the day, despite the snow, enough people had gone out through the forest trails to make for a respectable and minimum-effort hike possible (other than the uphill climbs). There were few people out at the same time we were, but you never know who you may come upon.

Like the husband of a cheerful young women whose daughters are now mature adults on their own, whom we'd known before her children were born. Who back in those days when very few people used the forest trails, took his snowmobile for a spin through the trails; an area where it is forbidden to use motorized vehicles. Back then the trails were far narrower and little-used, and the forest was full of animals we seldom now see any longer.

 

They're both a lot older now, as are we, and one would hope, somewhat wiser in his choices. Back then they had a friendly, excitable dog they had named Crook, in honour of a crook in its tail. Crook was an extremely emotional dog, voicing his pleasure at seeing friends and most amenable to being stroked and spoken to.

 

Now they have a Malamute getting on in years, and a standard Poodle we'd never seen before. The Malamute was notorious for chasing down foxes at a time when there were greater numbers than we've seen in quite a while. The Poodle, still a puppy, was a delight to watch, prancing about, inviting Jackie and Jillie to tussles and run-abouts.

Well, golly gee, another snowstorm! They're coming at us fast and furious this winter. Seems to be a trade-off; we haven't yet had any daytime highs of -20C, which we often 'enjoy' in the deepest days of winter in this region. In exchange for mild temperatures -- like today's 04C, we're the recipient of more snow. We're still anticipating that when all the environment-atmospheric numbers are crunched once winter's done with, we'll be ending up having had no more snow than usual for any given winter.

 

We woke to a dark morning today, but brightened it considerably with luscious melon, banana and French toast. which typifies most Sunday breakfasts. A little bit of backyard shovelling, just to anchor ourselves properly in the day, and then a brief consultation over a dinner menu. Weekends tend to see us favouring soups in the winter. And last night was no exception. Somehow, cold and snow seem well suited to piping hot, flavourful soups.

 

There were no pauses whatever in today's snow. It simply trickled down evenly all day. There was wind in the morning, but it subsided by afternoon when we chose to gear ourselves up for a ravine hike. The magic icing of snow lavishing itself over the environment in a scintillating gleam of perfection is utterly mesmerizing. The trees crowding the forest festooned with snow transform the landscape to the appearance of an outdoor cathedral.

Not for Jackie and Jillie, they take it all in stride, revelling in the soft powdery surface the forest floor has been transformed to. We glide, slide and stride after them, but they're in an excited state of freedom to roam, and roam they do, pausing now and again to catch up on the neighbourhood news, both intent on sniffing the aromatic clues left behind by other dogs.

 

The water in the creek has not yet frozen over this winter, and it won't, unless we do get a spate of uninterrupted extremely cold days and nights. Even the Rideau Canal has not yet opened for skating; about as late as it gets in any winter season. The creek is dark and still, as we pass over the first of the series of bridges and begin to climb the first hill that presents the most difficulty in ascending. 

 

Jackie and Jillie leap up well before we do, to access the ridge, and they wait for us to join them, scoping out the ridges beyond and the valleys between for signs of the presence of others, through giveaway movement. With an effort we finally make the top and find relief on the plateau where we can lope along flapping our boots through the new snow settling into place.

 

We hear crows far off in the distant skies circling over the forest canopy, all the while snow falling steadily, and look up into the trees hoping this will be the day we see an owl looking down at us in that quizzical manner they have; mostly barred owls visit the forest and we see them for the most part when they're nesting, in the spring.

There's a couple snowshoeing, and we pass a few pleasantries with them, another young man with a young female huskie, happy to see other dogs and people, everyone enchanted with the landscape, the contours of billowy snow, the air thick with more and the snow-filled clouds continually shedding more.

The snowstorm that left us with an additional 30 cm of snow yesterday is called a "Texas Low"; wouldn't think we'd be affected here in the far frozen north 😜by a  weather system coming out of Texas...! But there it is, the weathermen know it all. And no sun for us for a while, as well. We've had flurries all day, more forecasted for Saturday and on Sunday, 'periods of snow'. 

There's such a buildup of snow now -- and we haven't yet reached February -- it equally rivals the largest snowpack of any year. Alongside driveways on the street the snow is piled over my height. That it's beautiful looking is beyond dispute. Yesterday school buses were cancelled, so that must have been popular with students, if not with their parents.

No shovelling required today, so that's all to the good. This morning yesterday's newspapers along with today's were awaiting our notice on the porch. Newspapers weren't delivered yesterday; too much snow to wade through for anyone delivering house-to=house, so we've got a lot of reading to catch up with. Perusing the news on the Internet is fine in small bits, but for a full reading of the news there's nothing like hard copy.

I asked Irving what he'd like me to bake and he suggested a chocolate cake. I really prefer to bake 'cakes' in small sizes, so cupcakes come to mind. But his birthday is coming up, and so an exception is in order. I suggested leaving it for next week, as a birthday cake, but he said he'd prefer today. Next week I'll do something with sweet bread dough and dried fruits for a change.

I haven't baked a cake in quite a bit, and I remembered how often I would bake his favourite, a 'Red Devil's Food' cake I heartily disliked. It is a light and airy very dark chocolate cake, depending heavily on baking soda for taste and texture and I detest baking with baking soda; I cannot abide its taste. I suppose I could substitute baking powder, but I know the end result would be different. So this is his cake, for his birthday ... um pre-birthday.

When we set out for the ravine in the afternoon, the height of the snowpack on the street seemed quite impressive. It's relatively easier to judge the height of the snow in an urban setting, as compared to a forest, where the landscape just seems to open its arms wide to absorb the snow. We're quite aware, hiking through the ravine, that we stand a lot higher on the trails, given the layers of tamped down snow and ice.

The bridge rails present no difficulty for people taller than I am to look over into the cold running water of the creek, but now that the bridge floor is packed tight with layers of snow, it's easy for me, at this temporarily raised height of the bridge platform, to now easily sight anything over it.

The resident pileated woodpecker was at it again, busily chipping away at tree trunks, delving into the heartwood after unceremoniously hollowing it out in search of grubs. The sight of squirrels in deep winter is much scarcer now, though we see them far more frequently at home. I put out peanuts and  small squares of leftover buttered toast and broken-up carrots in the morning, and by the following morning it's all gone.

Oddly enough we had a tougher time clambering uphill during our ravine circuit today than we did yesterday, even though the trails had seen more people out through the course of the two days of snow. It's a relief when we reach the ridge and can walk for a while on a straight plateau before having to plunge downhill once again as we continue our hike toward the last of the uphill climbs and home.

After dinner last night a forecasted snowfall began and it snowed and it snowed. By this morning there was quite an accumulation of fresh snow, fluffed grandly over the existing snowpack. So out we went to shovel out the walkways in the backyard before breakfast, so Jackie and Jillie could more easily get around. When they went out first thing they were confronted by a wall of snow. Last night there was already so much snow at midnight they could hardly make their way down the stairs of the deck.

 

By this morning considerably more had come down and for them it was literally swim or sink until they reached the bottom step and slipped over to the paved area under the deck free of snow. While Irving cleaned them off and towelled them back in the house I grabbed the smaller of two snow shovels and began lifting snow. Most of the walkways were done before we called it quits, since Irving planned to take the snowthrower out and complete the job once snow stopped falling.

 

In the afternoon it was still snowing.  By mid-afternoon when snow finally came to an end we went out for our hike. Some of our neighbours were out shovelling their driveways, and for one of them faced with a driveway piled high with snow and ice facing the road by the municipal plow, it wasn't much fun that his snowblower had suddenly decided not to work. We sympathized, Irving offered to clear out the mess when he got our own machine out, but it just happened that one of his sons was visiting and would do the work.

 

We weren't sure we could even access the ravine, seeing the depth of t \he snow that was left on either side of the street, but we clambered over the barrier and made our way to a trail that had already begun being tamped down by those who had gone into the forest before us. We sighed in relief, with memories of past years when we were the only ones to break trail.

 

The height of the snowpack is evident now as we look at the forest; familiar landmarks tell us the difference in the snowed-in height of the trails themselves, and the snowpack that has surrounded and elevated itself around trees. We estimated that around 20 cm of snow had fallen from last night to this afternoon. When we did the shovelling on the pathways in our backyard the visible depth was about a foot.

By afternoon the winds had abated somewhat and the temperature hovered at -4C, so a bit milder than yesterday. Anyone lacking a good sense of balance on this snowy terrain with its loose, uneven surface would have had quite a time of it. Jackie and Jillie love the snow, love to frolic through it, and they race about happily, still able to sniff all the messages left behind by their friends.

 

Our uphill slogs were far more of an energy challenge, the depth of loose snow both an impediment and a help as we mustered a modicum of energy reserve to finally reach the top of the hills and alternately slide downhill when we descended. Momentum is certainly different and so is normal cadence, since  you end up shifting from side to side in the uneven terrain.

But the beauty of the landscape cannot be overstated. We heard a pileated woodpecker nearby but were unable to see it. The only time I came literally face-to-face with one of these magnificent birds was before the advent of digital cameras and I've been  hoping ever since I'd have another opportunity to photograph one up close and personal; no luck yet.

 

Everything is plush with snow, the landscape softly off-white in the dusky atmosphere of a heavily overcast afternoon. The soft contours of the ravine's geology, the stark contrast of the dark tree trunks now lavishly piled with snow, presents a breathtakingly beautiful picture of winter perfection. By the time we rounded out our afternoon circuit there appeared an unexpected bright blush on the horizon.

The setting sun cast a brilliant pink hue onto the clouds as it made a passing presence while setting. The clouds on the horizon had begun to break up, the snow long since over, and the sun found an opportunity before leaving for the night to cast that evanescent glow of bright light as though promising to return as soon as possible. Perhaps tomorrow.

 

A hand-crafted birthday card arrived this afternoon from our oldest son for his father's 86th birthday. Irving began a tradition when our children were quite young, of drawing amusing birthday cards for all of us on those special days. Our oldest son appears to have inherited his father's gift for sketching and his cartoons display a wit even more piquant at times than his father's. A flash of a brilliant inheritance.

 

All three of our children bear that distinguishing aesthetic flash in their own way. From interior design to furniture construction, drawing credibly life-like renditions of reality, throwing pottery, a love of nature, astronomy, they all reflect in some part their father's legacy of originality and artistic passion. 

 

 

Jackie and Jillie have a sharpened sense of the fundamentals of life as well, possibly through keen observation patterning them to appreciate life at its most organic level which accounts for their passionate devotion to food.😜😜 Something tells me, though, that this is a reflection of existence at its base, a penetrating sense of survival, one shared by all living creatures. 😇

 

Irving braved  high winds, extreme cold and windy conditions to drive over to the branch of the public library closest to us. To return an overdue video, and to nose about in the newly re-opened 'Friends of the Library' shop next to the library, where de-acquisitioned books and donated books crowd shelves waiting for the opportunity to enrich someone's home library. Irving loves the opportunity to be that 'someone'. 

 

He came home with another book by Richard Dawkins, another biography of Charles Darwin, a large-format picture book featuring Canada's Group of Seven's Tom Thomson, a compilation of writing by war correspondents, and two books, one a novel the other short stories, by Yukio Mishima. I have an ambition to some day read every one of the books on the groaning shelves of our home library.

 

When he returned he said the weather was dreadful, the wind whipping snow directly into his face, howling through the atmosphere on a day considerably colder than we've had in weeks. So, should we go out for our usual trek through the forest trails with Jackie and Jillie, or should we set that aside for the day? I knew the answer when Irving began filling his cookie pouch in preparation for a hike.

 

On with their heavier winter jackets for Jackie and Jillie; we'd venture out in the expectation that shelter from the forest canopy would look after the most ferocious wind gusts. And in fact, it did, and it hardly felt colder today than it had yesterday although there was a notable differential, from 4-degrees Celsius of yesterday to the -8C that we were presented with today.

 

The tree canopy, catching most of the snow that drifted down also lessened the opacity of the atmosphere, just as it diminished the force of the wind. As for the colder temperature, we had bundled ourselves so well, I almost felt mummified in the layers under my heaviest winter jacket. Excellent footing saw us ascend and descend hills with a minimum of effort/ Jackie and Jillie bounced about happily, leaping ahead of us, delighted with their snow-filled adventure.

Last week when we did our weekly food shopping we found quite a few empty shelves. A strange feeling, that. items as mundane as bell peppers and green onions were not to be had. Bananas so hard and intensely dark green you wondered if they'd ever ripen. Yawning empty shelves awaiting food deliveries and you know the supply chain hasn't yet recovered. Today, everything looked normal and there was nothing that we usually look for that we couldn't find. The supermarket was strangely empty of shoppers, even for the early morning hour.

Before we left the house Jackie was moping. Jillie wasn't thrilled but she's more practical than he is. It's a mystery to us how they detect that we'll be leaving before breakfast. Our routine up to that point is the same as it is every morning. So what is it that informs our two little imps that they'll be on their own for an hour or so? Usually Jackie trots after me expectantly at a certain point when the breakfast table has been set. It's when I slice cheese from a large block and snap it into little pieces to dole out for them pre-breakfast. Jillie was there, Jackie was inconsolable; no cheese, thank  you.

When we returned home it was a toss-up between leaping all around us, insisting on being commiserated with, fussed over, and peering into the large boxes containing the food we've returned with. Jackie is mostly concerned with cauliflower and is prepared to begin tearing pieces off the head, if he can locate it. Irving takes charge of the cauliflower, cutting away the green and stem for storage in the refrigerator vegetable drawer, and handing out florets to the puppies.

After breakfast Irving threads a few needles for me, enabling me to finally, after interminable procrastination, repair the cushion-back of the large sofa in the family room that Jackie managed some time ago to rip open. There was also a few items of clothing that have been awaiting mending since forever, and today was the day I had resolved to solve the shabby appearance of the sofa that we take pains not to notice.

Later, we went off to the ravine on yet another temperature-mild, but windy day. We'd had rain yesterday that turned to light overnight snow, but we've been alerted by Environment Canada that we'll finally be transitioning to much colder temperatures and another winter snowstorm will enter the landscape tomorrow.

We had a pleasant hour or so roaming about the forest trails. Everything remains cushioned with snow. The trails are in fine shape for hiking. It seemed much colder than what the thermometer registered, given an icy wind blasting through the landscape. We'd had a brief acquaintance with the sun early in the morning, but by afternoon the sky was fully overcast again.

On our return home I took out of the cupboard a beautiful blue pottery flan pan that Jordan had made for me years ago, that hasn't had very much use. I had decided to use it today, to bake a zucchini, eggplant, tomato combination. The Internet is an invaluable source of recipe ideas and I saw one a few days back that looked intriguing. I just took those elements of the recipe that appealed, added a few twists of my own, and we'll give it a try tonight. It will certainly be different from last night's Cornish game hen, noodle pudding and spinach dinner. 

The colourful shape of vegetables assembled to begin putting together a dinner casserole is worth a picture on its own. The rich colours, the smooth textures, the sensuous shapes are all appealing. As your mind plays with the ingredients and the order of preparation, you automatically internalize the 'fragrance of the vegetables cooking, well before that becomes a reality; it's part of the pleasure of handling whole foods.

How fortunate we are to have such abundance of nutritional, well-grown and cared for basic foodstuffs at our disposal. How fortunate we are to have access to it all, to make our choices, to plan meals and to savour their goodness, all of which adds immeasurably to both our mental and physical well-being.