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.