The telephone jarred us awake this morning at 7:00 a.m. We're accustomed to getting nuisance calls throughout the day at awkward times, mostly sales pitches for services we have no interest in whatever. The CRTC once asked people to register with them years ago, if they wanted to stop these unwelcome calls, but it never did manage to do anything about their nuisance-frequency. Mostly, we wouldn't answer them, or just pick up the receiver and slam it back down. Asking callers to cease and desist does nothing; they're just unwitting cogs in the machinery that employs them.

But Irving picked up the phone and listened to a canned message from the Ministry of Transportation informing him for the second time that his test for his driver's license renewal scheduled for this morning as an over-80 driver had to be cancelled 'due to circumstances beyond their control. He would be advised at a later date of a new scheduling. Tiresome, to say the least.

At 7:00 in the morning the bedroom should be flooded with dawn's early light, but this morning it wasn't. Instead, it was so dark we could have been convinced it was 3:00 a.m. So we knew it was raining. Not just any rain, however, but freezing rain. And it rained and it rained. The freezing rain turned to just plain old cold rain when the thermometer struggled up to 1C. We were certain we'd have no opportunity to take Jackie and Jillie out for a walk; the weather forecast in the newspaper simply noted 90% rain.

But by 3:00 p.m. the rain suddenly stopped.That was our signal to get out for some fresh air and so we did. Looking out at the front garden we could see that the trees had a thick coating of ice. The forest would be dripping, we knew, and just in case the rain started up again, we geared the puppies up for rain. But the rain was over, and it had no intention of returning, at least for the duration of our forest hike.

Despite which we were engulfed in frigid showers as soon as we entered the ravine because the trees were steadily shedding the ice that had amassed on branches and evergreen needles throughout the episode of hours of freezing rain. What fell on us didn't feel like rain, instead plops of frozen ice-water kept up a steady patter on our coats.

Well shielded from the rain by their boots and coats Jackie and Jillie didn't mind. Underfoot there were tiny balls of ice that resulted from the snow succumbing both to freeze-up overnight and rainfall. In some areas the trails were frozen, and that's where Jackie and Jillie were slipping and sliding because of their boots, though they remained unpertubed and plodded on. Our boots sunk into the frozen mash more than their tiny weights would.

The forest stream was flush with meltwater and rain, rushing downstream in a noisy assertiveness of near-spring conditions. There were a few others out, like us, with their dogs, but not many. Those that did venture out were grateful that the opportunity had presented itself. Both for their own recreation and for their dogs' chance to enjoy the ambience as they do every day.

Branches of trees hung low-slung with the weight of the ice limned over needles and branches of conifers. In the heavy overcast there was a light rainfog like a thin veil of grey-white. Branches and needles were thick with ice that glinted and gleamed, that shone despite the forest gloom. All of this has its own beauty in a landscape hedging between winter and spring.