It tells you something about the heating power of a winter sun when you see its effects in action. Take, for example, the sheet-metal canopy over our deck, piled high with snow. When the snow accumulates to a depth of over six inches, the manufacturer recommends the snow be cleared off the canopy. So at least several times throughout the course of the winter Irving has to climb a ladder on the deck, to use a long handled roof 'rake' to get all the snow off. 

The danger is if the canopy, weighted down with snow and ice collapses onto the deck while someone happens to be standing or momentarily walking under it, the consequences have the potential to be serious. We can be assured, however, that if sun follows the heavily clouded day that gave us a heavy snowfall, the sun will do the work for us.

 

Following our last two-day snowstorm that left 26 cm of snow and a piled-high canopy, we've enjoyed a number of consecutive icy-cold, but clear days. The sun does its work very efficiently; day one of full sun melted the snow and ice at the corners of the canopy. Today is day three of -7C degrees with full sun and the canopy is now almost entirely shed of all that snow. Of course nothing is ever as simple as it seems. As the snow melts it drips and falls on to the deck. And it takes no time at all for the melted snow lying on the deck, to become an icy surface.

One potential hazard solved, another pops up. But one that's more easily controlled. We just avoid those icy areas and feel grateful there's no need to manoeuvre about with ladders and rakes in awkward positions. Both risk a fall, but one type of fall s far riskier than the other.

 

We set out with Jackie and Jillie a little later than usual for our ravine hike today since it's house-cleaning day. The sun had already set when we left the house a tad after four, but there was still ample light. Once we're in the forest the ambient snow cover also emits a bright light, temporarily keeping dusk at bay. But it seems to take little time before we realize that yes, dusk has entered. And by the time we leave the forest it's become dark.

Hiking conditions on the trails are just perfect. the snow has been well tamped down by many booted feet and dog paws. The trail tends to be narrower on offshoot trails than the main trails, but they're easily negotiable. We've had no wind to accompany those sunny days, so nothing has really much disturbed the snow layered thickly on tree limbs and branches. 

 

When we descend to the bottom of the ravine and turn toward one of the bridges fording the forest creek Jackie and Jillie are always busy sniffing about to discover who has been there before them. They are able to scent clues anywhere, even on newfallen snow. It reminds me of us reading the daily newspaper. They pick up the neighbourhood dog news.

As we approach the bridge Jillie always looks above to the hills leading to the ridge and the trails up above to check whether anyone is out and about up there. Long before we mount that hill ourselves she is loudly proclaiming our presence. Her shrill barks sometimes elicit responses in gruffly deeper tones and most often they're her friends whom she has alerted to cookie opportunities. It takes no time before some of her friends join us anxious not to miss any handouts.

 

What's for dinner tonight? Well, on another -7C, icy day where the temperature is set to drop again close to -20C overnight and we had a lentil-bean chowder with freshly baked dinner rolls yesterday, today's dinner will be different A beef roast, Yorkshire pudding, green beans and fresh blueberries with yoghurt for dessert. And a little bit of all of that for Jackie and Jillie after their own dinner.