Meat doesn't comprise a large proportion of our diet, and the meat we tend to have most often is chicken. But on Monday I decided to do a small sirloin tip roast for dinner for a change. It was good, nicely tender, but we ended up with too much leftovers. The kind of leftovers we can't share with the puppies. Red meat doesn't impact on Jillie, but Jackie is sensitive to it, and has an allergic reaction that can put him off eating altogether, he feels that ill afterward. 

 

I thought the leftovers would do well in a meat pie, so that's what I put together on Wednesday evening. Starting out with chopped onions and garlic cloves simmered in olive oil, adding sliced mushrooms, then flour and beef stock to make a thick gravy into which went rosemary and thyme, salt and pepper, paprika and then the beef, followed by frozen green peas. While the filling cooled off, I prepared the pastry crust, then baked the pie to a nice, crisp crust with a moist interior. 

 

The fragrance wafted through the kitchen, through the family room, and whetted the puppies' appetites, but though they thought the filling would make a nice treat, we knew differently. They had to make do with their own kibble, plus cooked chicken followed up by their appetite-voracious salad of cauliflower, bell pepper, cherry tomatoes. Their main meal to them is optional, the follow-up salad is a necessity.

When we went up to bed last night snow was falling. When the pups came into the house from their last foray to the backyard before sleep they looked like two little snowpups. When we came down for breakfast this morning, morning snow was just winding up. Leaving us with some snow down, but not much. We knew it wouldn't last on the ground beyond a few hours since the temperature had already nudged up past zero.

 

Later, when we entered the ravine for our afternoon hike through the trails, not much was left of that newfallen snow. The rise in temperature had also taken away much of the starter-snowpack and ice that have lingered all week in the forest. Where in the last few days the ground had felt solidly frosted, today it felt thawed out and the result of the snow plus the thawing left the clay underfoot fairly mucky.

With muck comes slippery conditions on the hillsides. A problem without adequate footgear, but we were still wearing cleats over our boots, which meant no problems negotiating the inclines. Although dusk always arrives earlier within the forest than it does outside its precincts, it never ceases to surprise us when it arrives and all too soon darkness begins to hug the landscape.

 

Among many other items in today's morning  read of the newspapers, there was a story headlined the rising cost of food products, a popular topic of the past several years. Chocolate (the dark variety) has gone up in price, and so has sugar, while the headliner was the greater cost to the consuming public of avocados, grown in Mexico's most crime-struck state. I had no idea that Mexico grew 70 percent of the world's avocado crops, nor that Canada was the world's 7th largest importers of the vegetable. Last week we paid $1.99 for a bag of six avocados; this week they're back up to their normal price of $3.99. I'd hardly call that a catastrophic rising cost. Mind, at some supermarkets single avocados can be priced up to $4.99. So we buy a bag of six and enjoy them at a reasonable cost.

 

Which leads me to another food topic of interest to me. And that is the number of times we have to empty our kitchen-top compost container which holds about two quarts of waste. Into it this morning went coffee grounds, a tea bag, banana skins, egg shells, orange rinds and avocado shells. After we did our shopping Irving usually cuts cauliflowers down to a size that fit better into our vegetable crisper by removing the leaves and most of the stem. That went in, along with trimming the leeks I bought. And then cleaning and preparing vegetables for a stir-fry saw trimmings from bell pepper, mushrooms, snow peas, garlic skins go into the compost as well. Followed by peelings of persimmons, meant for dessert.

 

I couldn't believe how frigid it felt today with a temperature high of -4C, augmented by a nasty wind that blew up to 55mph in gusts. The temperature plus the wind in the parking lot of the supermarket we shopped at made for a memorably miserable experience. I could almost sympathize with those shoppers who feel no obligation to wheel their shopping carts into the proper receptacle for them, rather than abandoning them in the parking lot for others to have to move out of the way to do their shopping. Even the short walk to park the shopping carts must have felt too much for some people, facing the icy atmosphere and blasting wind.

 

We did dress with a little more care when we went out earlier in the day with Jackie and Jillie. Neither the cold nor the wind fazed them. They went about their trotting hither and yon, back and forth completely oblivious to conditions that made us feel that if it were any colder we'd become pillars of ice. Could be that being closer to the ground helps. Even though the forest floor had a light covering of snow pellets that came down earlier in the morning hours.

 

The footing now on the slopes can be a bit dicey, so it appears increasingly as though the cleats firmly strapped on our boots will remain there until winter waves goodbye in five months' time. We saw two people at a distance with a dog, hovering with indecision at the top of the first long hill descending into the ravine, who visually assessed the conditions assumed they had no wish to emulate Monty Python's ministry of funny walks, turned around and left the area.

We encountered no difficulties ourselves, and truth to tell, there is some protection from the elements within the embrace of the forest. Generally, the wind doesn't penetrate as lustily, and although there can be some icy pockets in micro areas of the forest landscape, in its entirety it can be somewhat less frosty than out at street level. So we all enjoyed our hike, and on our return home it wasn't until we'd entered the house that I realized my face felt as stiff as ice.

 

What a wild weather day this has been. All-night rain that leaked well into the morning hours made us think we wouldn't have the chance to take our puppies out for their normal circuit through the forest trails. It's cleaning day, takes me hours to get the house properly in shape, even with Irving doing the vacuuming. So I'm not particularly fond of interrupting the cleaning process to take advantage of early afternoon light so we won't miss a woodland walk.

 

 

This was beginning to resemble a day when we wouldn't be able to get out. With the temperature at 4C, it's modestly mild, but still cold enough that if it rains it can be pretty uncomfortable, even wearing rain jackets, especially for very small dogs. But then, suddenly, the sky cleared and out came the sun. Where the house interior had been dark just moments before, it suddenly lit up with brilliant light.

 

 

So we hurried to get ready for an impromptu walk. Filled the little sink in the laundry room with soapy water, (convenient for washing muddy little paws after a slush-hike through the ravine) set out towels on top of the washer and drier. Dressed Jackie and Jillie in a light winter coat, halter and collars and then ourselves, and off we went.

 

 

Given the fact of all that rain and the almost-balmy temperature, I felt inclined not to wear cleats over my boots. Irving persuaded me otherwise. And I grudgingly wore them. I was convinced that hours of rain would have cleared the trails on the inclined hillsides of their ice and snow and consequently there would be no need of the cleats for safety and traction.

 

As soon as we scanned the hill leading into the forest I thanked Irving for cautioning me to wear the cleats. The descent would have been fairly hair-raising without them. Once we descended into the ravine, we turned left to ascend another hill that would take us to the point where we would descend, then ascend again, a series of hills leading to a prominence in the ravine. Without the cleats it would have been fairly difficult, a difficulty to avoid if at all possible.

 

 

And once up on the broad ridge of the forest the snow and ice had almost completely disappeared. And so had the sun by this point. Which didn't stop us from having a refreshing foray through one of the circuits we're familiar with. Wet conditions always seem to enhance odours and Jackie and Jillie found ample intriguing smells, all of which had to be investigated, wherever they happened to be. 

 

Early in the morning we had noticed flocks of birds flitting about in the trees, and realized they were robins. At this time of year it isn't unusual to see small flocks of robins and we always assume they're juveniles. Many of them remain all winter. But on this occasion there were quite a few groups and that was unusual. Yesterday, emerging from the ravine we saw a large group of starlings flying out of the forest. A week earlier we'd seen an absolute murder of crows, many hundreds in discrete groups flying out of the forest.

 

 

When we returned home after our forest hike, there were some robins still around. And then I realized some of the robins were interested in the Jade crabapple tree in a narrow garden beside the driveway. This year, the thousands of tiny crabapples had remained on the tree, and robins were definitely interested in eating them. A lovely sight.

 

 

 

This household's tried-and-true formula for winter meals is back in session by popular demand. So this morning breakfast consisted of melons and bananas, French toast and sausages, tea, coffee. After their own morning meal, Jackie and Jillie graciously volunteered themselves to aid and assist in making short work of our breakfast. And a good time was had by all.

 

 

Our evening meal last night was of less interest to them, though they deigned to help out where they could. We had bowls of vegetable soup, thick with garden vegetables and corn kernels, savoury, with a bit of a bite thanks to seasonings and herbs. I always try to remember to discard bay leaves from soups in fear that someone might not notice their presence and end up swallowing a piece.

 

 

And with the soup came freshly baked and fragrant cheese-sesame-seed croissants to augment and complement the savoury soup. They're natural companions. Nutritious and satisfyingly filling. I halved my croissant, actually and smoothed a ripe avocado over it, and Irving chose to slather his with liver pate. Fresh pears from, of all places, Portugal, completed the meal. Almost forgot, Irving had bought a container of Brazil nuts and we enjoyed some of those, as well.

 

 

Today, another cool, heavily overcast, slightly windy day. The thermometer registered a comfy 3C when we departed the house for the ravine with Jackie and Jillie in the afternoon. Once again, the ritual of pulling on cleats seemed to  us a sensible precaution, though we had no real way of knowing until we entered the forest if they would be needed.

 

As it happened, they were required. Even with them, we made our way gingerly down the first hill into the forest. And we could see approaching us from an angle on another hill, two figures cautiously negotiating their descent, grasping at tree trunks for stability. So for the foreseeable future, it will be sensible to continue wearing our cleats to avoid any uncomfortable and certainly inconvenient falls.

 

We came across one of our neighbours who lives down the street from us, with her new little rescue, a rambunctious year-and-a-half little terrier mix. They had to say a surprise farewell to their former little pup, a long-haired miniature dachshund who seemed in good health, but suddenly expired. A shock that only another little fellow could soften. This little fellow ran rings around Jackie and Jillie, just having a wonderful time of being out in the forest, a new adventure for him.

 

While most of the forest floor remains free of snow, the trails were tamped down well by passing hikers at a time of newfallen snow, and the season of freezing nights and cold days have ensured the hard-packed snow and ice on the trails remain fairly stable. Anywhere it has managed to melt, on the other hand, the result is muck from the thaw.

 

We weren't the least bit interested in experiencing a repeat of yesterday's excitement on the icy trails in the ravine for today. And although today was considerably milder, at 2C, than yesterday's -4C, little wind and plenty of sun, we anticipated that the  trails would still be treacherous. Not so bad in flat areas, but on the hillsides, too exciting altogether for our 87-year-old armatures.

 

 

We really didn't want to use the new crampons yet because they're just too heavy-duty. Walking on hard concrete like the roads wouldn't do them much credit either; for one thing it would mean a quick wearing-down of their properties, not to mention feeling pretty awkward walking on the raw concrete road surface bare of snow and ice. So we decided to use the old, much lighter rubber pull-on icers, and we set off with confidence early this afternoon for the ravine.

 

 

Disconcertingly, before there's a layer of snow on the forest floor, the forest interior even before 3:00 in the afternoon assumes a dusky appearance other than in areas where the forest canopy recedes briefly admitting a full measure of the sun's bright atmosphere.

 

 

Because it was early and since it was such a beautiful day we decided to stay out longer and forge ahead for a much longer trail hike through the woods. At first we saw no one else out, attributing it to the icy conditions underfoot, but after the first half-hour, we began to see others on the trails. And where people are out in the ravine, so too are their quadruped family members. 

 

Now and again, one or another of our hail-doggy-well-met friends would lope over to say hello and wait for recognition which was never long in coming. Big or small, they're always well-mannered and respectful, with rare exceptions. And even those rare exceptions are so ingratiating in their manner that it hardly matters when they leap up since an admonishment will see them once again seated obediently. It works beautifully for other dogs, but never for ours.

 

Of the people we did see out, many avoided the hills and the ascents and descents that required an effort to remain erect, confining themselves to the forested areas that were flat and above the ravine itself. We had the luxury of going wherever we felt inclined to, thanks to the icers. Inconveniently though, because of the unevenness of the terrain, the rocks and roots that we invariably have to negotiate, one of Irving's icers parted company with his boot on several occasions.

 

And it's a right royal pain to have to restore the things to their proper position when you're out in the forest, and dressed in winter gear. At one point, near the final portion of our day's outing, the problematic icer fell off just as we were ascending the next-to-last hill. And just then, one of our furry friends, always excitable because that's its character, charged at Irving in its anxiety for a cookie, threw him off balance, and he almost fell, caught by a helpful tree trunk.

So there was a modicum of drama in today's outing, after all. 

 

We had no opportunity to get out for our daily walk through the forest yesterday which turned out to be a weather-miserable day of relentless rain. Irving did go out to do some shopping. He had in mind looking for new and more reliable cleats to pull over our winter boots for the coming winter season. Our adventure of the day before, when we slipped and slid up and down the various hills in the ravine was a tad too exciting altogether. How we managed to remain erect is a mystery.

 

The pair he bought for my boots have some pretty wicked-looking spikes that make me a little nervous. I'm always careful around Jackie and Jillie when I'm wearing those ice-cleats, and with good reason. Contact with them could result in some very serious injury. In all the years we've been wearing them we haven't had any accidents; we're alert to where our pups are, around our feet.

 

When evening arrived last night the rain ceased and light snow took over for a short while as the temperature dropped. There wasn't much of an accumulation and we assumed because at the highest point in the afternoon when we finally got out with the puppies it was -4C, the trails that were so treacherous two days earlier, would be frozen solid. They were. We could feel just how deeply frost had set in as we entered the path leading to the ravine.

 

Then we realized that the snow that hadn't made much of an impact outside the forest had gathered on top of the thick icy slush we had encountered on Tuesday, adhered to it, and resulted in a fairly thick layer of ice that challenged our ability to remain upright as we descended into the ravine. We weren't really mentally prepared to trip the Light Fantastic again. It hadn't occurred to us we might need those ice cleats so soon.

 

Well, of course, it wasn't the entire network of forest trails that were steeped in ice. We took our time, chose an alternate, safer route, and managed to remain in charge of our well-being. The temperature was just on the cusp of the puppies needing their winter rubber boots. They faced no inconvenience in negotiating the trails; it's where bipedalism is trumped by four agile legs.

Earlier in the day I was busy in the kitchen. As usual, I'd asked Irving what he'd like for a dessert for this evening. And wasn't I surprised; he actually came up with a suggestion. He'd seen gingerbread cakes advertised at one of his favourite haunts. So gingerbread it would be. Most gingerbread recipes use a combination of baking soda and boiling water in the cake batter. Since I really heartily dislike baking soda in cakes, I thought I could do better.

So I increased the butter content, used yellow instead of dark brown sugar because last time we were shopping they were out of the latter. Instead of baking soda, I used baking powder, along with the ginger, cinnamon, cloves, salt and molasses. Typically, a single egg is used with about a cup and a half of flour. I increased that to two eggs and reduced the flour to one cup. And substituted sour cream for hot water.

I used my countertop convection oven. I had turned it on to warm it to 350F, then popped the batter in its baking dish into the oven and set the timer for 42 minutes. Then I was busy preparing a bread dough, putting on a chicken soup to simmer and preparing chicken breast cutlets for breading. Just before the timer went off I looked at the convection oven and saw what looked like a flat cake. I opened the door and realized what I was looking at was the inert batter, and there was no heat emanating from the oven.

Somehow it had shut itself off. Out came the cake pan and batter. I fiddled with the oven's electrical plug, shoving it deeper into the wall receptacle, and on came the oven. After it heated up properly, back in went the cake. And then it finally baked.

 

Well, the snow squalls that missed us the night before came down last night, but much reduced from the expectations, with a mere 2 cm of accumulation. But it has given us a dark day. Dark and wet. It began last night with freezing rain, so drivers must have been cursing. Just as well we've got the winter ice tires installed, just in time.

 

I had made one of those savoury tomato-cheese tarts for dinner last night; our accelerated winter cuisine in full swing. I'm really devoted now to exchanging ice-water or lemon juice, or egg for the liquid in producing pastry dough now, with sour cream. It works out so wonderfully well. Mind, the resulting dough for the crust is delicately fragile and needs careful handling, but the test is in the taste, and it's excellent for such pies.

 

I'd layered the interior with grated sharp cheddar, chopped green onion and bell pepper, mixed herbs, sliced tomatoes and sweet basil. Two large eggs beaten with light cream and a scattering of Parmesan cheese finished the filling. I prefer it now by a large margin to quiche, and so does Irving. Tonight's dinner will be different; a beef stew with mushrooms, carrot and potato. And green beans cooked separately.

 

We expend a lot more energy these days when we take our daily ravine hikes. And we certainly did today. At Irving suggestion, the rationale of which was to avoid the chance of afternoon rain, we decided we'd take Jackie and Jillie out for their trot through the forest trails this morning, before breakfast. Out we stepped to a mushy-wet-white world.

 

Others had been out before us from the community of hikers and dog-walkers, perhaps propelled by the same thought that got us out early. Descending into the ravine was a bit dicey, the snow turned to slush and was as expected, slippery. We're accustomed to it. We took our time and made certain we established good footing. Jackie and Jillie of course had no problems. As we crossed the first bridge a Labradoodle came rushing downhill from where we were headed to say hello. And then dove into the creek for a refreshing, frigid bath.

 

We began to ascend the next hill and though it is not as long as the first hill we descended, making our way uphill on that one turned out to be a problem. Actually, that hill always is a problem in the winter months in some conditions. It was a struggle to get to the top, but finally I was there, and I turned back to see Irving not even a quarter of the way up, continually sliding backward. Finally, he gave up.

 

He turned back to another track that we always avoid because we consider it difficult and potentially dangerous. But this is the way he managed to finally get up that hill. It has steps cut into the soil surface at intervals and bit by bit he made his way uphill to join me. But it was exhausting work and sapped our energy levels. So we took our time once we were out on the ridge, as compensation.

 

And around there, two dogs came running toward us familiarly. Hard for me to remember them, but they obviously remembered us and headed straight for Irving, seating themselves politely in front of him, waiting patiently as he fumbled with the bag he carries cookies in. At some point in our hike they heard Jillie, and her barking -- informing her friends that we're around -- brings them running.

From there, another long hill to descend, and carefully. We've slipped and fallen often enough, and mostly without harm, but there have been occasions when a fall turned out to be more than inconvenient. When it happens with a heavy snowpack settled on the forest floor, it isn't too bad. 

 

Our expectation was that we would wake to snow squalls this morning, given the weather warning forecasting just that, yesterday afternoon. We had also received an email from the company that does the snow-plowing on the street. However, we saw nothing of the kind this morning. We did see a thermometer that made us shiver, though it's certainly not unexpected, at -6.5C. No worries, it steadily rose until  it hit -1C for the afternoon high. That was after we'd gone to the ravine for our hike through the woods with Jackie and Jillie when it was an icy -2.3C.

 

When we left the house it was -2.3 under a heavily overcast sky and a miserable, penetrating wind. But we were dressed for it. We could actually smell the snow, hovering above, teasing us, but not a flake descended while we were out. There was heavy frost everywhere, on the roofs of houses and our little garden sheds. Even blades of grass on the lawn held frost.

 

While we were grateful for the excellent footing on the trails which were now fully frost-penetrated, it was cold. We've just got to become better acclimatized all over again to what our winters are like. We haven't had any precipitation to speak of for at least a week and it's been fairly dry, even though an overall feeling of cold dampness had settled in. We could see ice crystals had formed, in some places thick enough to resemble a true ice formation where existing moisture had succumbed to the low temperature.

 

There are no more bugs, beetles, bees, mosquitoes or butterflies flitting about. They've found their shelters for the winter. Oddly, we were surprised to find an almost-comatose, but still fumbling-about wasp in the house on the framework of the front door, yesterday. Irving gently placed it outside where it will, of course, perish. The desperate inundation of ladybugs of years past did not materialize this year, attempting to prolong life in a futile effort to find shelter from the cold -- inside homes.

 

We enjoyed an invigorating hike through the trails, then left Jackie and Jillie at home while we escaped to get our food shopping done for the week. The self-serve cashouts now outnumber the cashier-served cashouts and usually only one manned by a cashier is open. When we were ready to leave, a man we had noticed in the aisles several times while we were shopping was there ahead of us getting an enormous pile of food selections stuffed into his shopping cart serviced by one of the cashiers we've long been familiar with.

His was an extraordinary performance. For every item he plucked out of his cart -- plus an auxiliary cart he had parked outside the aisle, next to his main cart -- he consulted what was presumably a list of items on his iphone. This performance was time-consuming and confusing to us, we had never before in our shopping experience seen anything like it. It was clear from the accumulating pile that he would also be forever packing everything.

Finally, another cashier opened up and we slide over to her and we were checked through, packed and ready to go. As we glanced back at this peculiar shopper meticulously checking through his shopping list -- I forgot to mention that puzzlingly, the items seemed to represent discrete lists. While we had been behind him, waiting for the excruciating show to come to an end, he paid a total electronically, then commenced with an additional list and associated items and another total he paid. This happened three times.

As we looked back before exiting the store, he was still selecting items out of the two shopping carts and the pile awaiting packing had grown enormously. We were glad to be delivered from the scene into the sharp cold of the outside so we could head back home, still shaking our heads in wonder at the inappropriate and truly peculiar behaviour of people thinking nothing of inconveniencing others through a rigorous shopping experience unlike any other.