We were forced by weather to relinquish any thoughts we had of getting out to the ravine for our daily jaunt through the forest trails with Jackie and Jillie yesterday. The high for the day was an unheard-of for mid-December 9C, with heavily overcast skies that dripped steadily throughout the entire day.  We had little choice in the matter; getting out even at that mild temperature in pouring rain isn't much fun. The incessant rain convinced us that whatever was left of the snowpack in the ravine would be gone by today.  

Yet, when we came downstairs for breakfast this morning, a far cheerier sight greeted us looking out the front door. The environment was once again frosted with white and even under the prevailing overcast, it looked sparkling. It wasn't hard to notice though, that despite a lower temperature, the wind was very present. And each time we ventured out to the backyard it bit through our clothing.

By the time we got out for our walk in the early afternoon wind had moderated the benign temperature to nasty-mean, a fiercely biting wind. But we were glad to be able to get out with the puppies and stretch their legs and ours. As always it's delightful to see the landscape frosted with white, even if, on this occasion, the frosting was on the sparse side.

Fresh snow on top of sheer ice doesn't mitigate conditions of slipping and sliding on descents, and we could see as we tromped down the first incline into the ravine that there had been plenty of slipping and sliding as people were incautious enough to think the rain might have washed away or denaturized the ice. It hadn't, and we were grateful for the firm grip of the wicked spikes on our boots.

As we approached the forest creek and the first of several bridges leading up to or down from the ridge above, Jillie began her frantic barking, obviously having spotted someone above, and then her brother joined in. That someone whoever it was just stood up above, holding a large black dog short on a leash, and I wondered why.

When we made our way uphill to the ridge, a friendly face greeted us, an old ravine-walking friend we haven't seen in several years. His dog Rex, a rottweiler, had died and he didn't have the heart to revisit the places where they had enjoyed being together. He told us he was utterly bereft with the loss, and we could commiserate; we've been through that sense of utter deprivation ourselves. 

It took some time for him to recover from his emotional loss. In the meantime, he had been infected with a dreadful case of COVID that took him a long time to recover from, but he also had good news too, a grandchild born to his daughter. His wife finally urged him to fill the gap in his life and he adopted a Rottie pup, named him Bosco. And there he was with Bosco, now 11 months old, back to his old routine, forging through the forest trails.