Nature has been closely, bemusedly, incredulously, following human affairs in disbelief that all the verities of social cohesion in support of the greater social weal have been steadily turning in on themselves, discarding reality and justice and experience and history for the vagaries of vicious mischief and the howling crowds willing and eager to surrender to the loudest voices heralding the new era of unscience and unhistory and injustice.

 

It is all so wearyingly obnoxious and utterly lunatic; stoking one's inner fires of incredulity can lead to a yearning to turn time itself inside out. Perhaps it will turn out to be one long cataclysmic paranoid hate-bacchanalia that will wear itself out and in another generation or so, sanity will return to humanity. In the interim, Nature has been so befuddled by the collapse of intelligence and common sense to the extent that she's forgotten to monitor her elements.

 

She appears not to have noticed that although it is approaching mid-December and we've had a nice beginning of a substantial snowpack, yesterday became sufficiently mild to bring us an all-day rain. Oh, all-night rain followed into the morning as well. And then the temperature dropped ever so bit-by-bit and snow came along, not quite restoring what was lost in the rain.

 

 

We're steadily approaching the shortest day of the year. On December 21 winter will officially arrive, although to be sure, it dropped by, a lot earlier and just forgot to leave. Little wonder these December days have been pulling the blinds on daylight, shuttering the sun out in favour of dense ceilings of cloud. These short-on-light days don't sit well with us. By the time we've taken our leisurely time committing to all the little and large chores inherent in operating a household, dusk arrives.

But out we went, as soon as I had finished washing the floors. No boots for Jackie and Jillie today since at 0C they're unnecessary. Even so, the cold was penetrating thanks to the damp atmosphere aided by wind. But we were all happy to be out. Jackie and Jillie so much so that they demanded cookies even before we delved into the ravine. I can relate to that; there's comfort in eating on these days of dark and cold.

On Saturday I made a vegetable soup and baked dinner rolls to accompany the soup, and it was the perfect duo for comfort. Sunday followed with a dried-pulse-barley-and-chopped-yam soup and it fit the bill perfectly as well. Banishing the blues of an all-day rain. Before we left the house for the ravine, I popped a little Cornish game hen into the oven to roast at a low temperature, planning a kugel and green beans to accompany it. Jackie and Jillie are always ready to volunteer themselves in helping us consume these meals. There are no 'leftovers' in this house.

While we were out in the forest we came across a delightful young couple who had moved to our street about a year ago. They have a young, exuberant Golden Doodle, an absolutely irrepressibly-happy dog and with them was their now-10-month-old daughter, the very picture of health and beauty in her miniature perfection.

I happened to have taken off one of my mittens to reach into a jacket pocket for tissues and quick as a flash of light, my mitten was lost in the grip of the pup's mouth. She ran hysterically, joyfully everywhere with the mitten, a live-wire of playfulness, eluding all attempts to persuade her to surrender the mitten. Her performance was a perfect theatre of youth and energy and love of life and we loved every minute of it.