We were almost but not quite in the -20C degree-range last night. By morning the temperature had risen to -12C, just a tad milder than it had been yesterday. But the wind was gone. And to our surprise quite a bit of snow had accumulated overnight. And it kept coming down through breakfast, quickly restoring what Irving had shovelled clean before breakfast to yet another depth.

 

We weren't expecting a snowfall. My theory is that when it's really cold, it seldom snows. So there you are. Just to show that you can't second-guess the weather around here, soon after the snow eventually stopped the sky began to clear and darned if the sun didn't come out beaming happily down at us. 

 

There were some leftover pancakes after breakfast, so I cut them into little squares and Irving put them out for the squirrels. In the intense cold they weren't coming around as much for handouts, preferring to snooze in their nests, and who can blame them? We did the very same thing yesterday, deciding to give our daily forest hike a pass because it was just too cold. Jackie and Jillie were coming into the house one paw after another being lifted, puzzled because their tiny feet were so cold in brief visits to the backyard.

 

The temperature began to rise and before we knew it, we were looking at a -4C afternoon, a clear and appreciated invitation to get out. And we did. And so did a whole lot of other people with their dogs from the surrounding community. People tend to drive over from more distant points to take advantage of the presence of our shared natural landscape.

 

And so we came across a surprising number of people, and even more dogs. Dogs kept coming over to say hello to Irving. Their greeting is typically manifested by a hurried approach -- like at gallop speed -- no human companion yet anywhere in sight, with the dog sitting quietly beside Irving who has stopped and begun rummaging about for his cookie cache. 

 

Jackie's and Jillie's celebrated ruse of pretending hostility to the presence of other dogs works like a charm. Far-off dogs elsewhere on other trails or other parts of the ravine pick up their ears when our two bark, turn to their humans as though to say 'see ya!' and they're gone. Gone over pathways irregular as short-cuts, following the sound and the fragrance of the cookie club.

 

It's fun to watch them; this is very serious business. They negotiate space when more than one or two appear, settle down and patiently wait for the cookies to appear and be apportioned. Thanks, bud. Can we have another? Cookies dispensed and gobbled, back they go; a routine that has become set in stone.

 

Beautiful to see the fresh new snow. The landscape looks fresh and inviting, and somewhat different every time. At home the sun's effect was to persuade the snow to drop off the tree branches. Here, in the forest, the warmth of the sun penetrates minimally, and until there's a good hefty wind being raised, the newfallen snow is content to remain just where it falls.

 

As we pass people we know and briefly acknowledge one another's presence, or stop now and again for a deeper conversation, everyone is smiling. It's Sunday, and what kind of winter leisure could possibly top this? A father, sitting on a toboggan and steering it, his little daughter in front of him, zips down a hill, the child shrieking with pleasure.