We've known the kind of poverty that floods your consciousness every moment of the day; when you're shopping for food and the price of fresh vegetables and fruits for your growing family forces you to be really creative, like giving each person seated around the breakfast table half an orange, and carefully measuring out the oatmeal/raisin/honey/pumpkin seed mix you baked in the oven, making enough to last through the week. Like viewing it as catastrophic when the old family car needs costly work, or the vacuum cleaner has seen its last days, held together with glue and tape. And using the quarters the children were given by a grandparent to put together enough money to pay for milk, and socks. 

The news of urgent need at the Food Bank, because more people than ever are turning to them for food to feed themselves and their families has a distant, fading ring to it. We're fortunate now, in our old age that we managed to look after ourselves and our children providing them with everything needed to raise healthy, aware and intelligent adults. We've no longer any cares about the cost of anything. We are well beyond comfortable, but not complacent.

And we've made Food Bank donations for four decades. Now Food Bank clients are continuing to grow in number. And who even knew that the Human Society also operates a food bank, this one for family pets? To help people struggling with the need to ensure their dogs and cats have enough nutrition through the course of a day? We're now spending on average $30 weekly on the donations we leave for the Food Bank of non-perishable food. Several weeks ago the same products cost us $25. So how are people in poverty able to manage?

Cold, today, very cold. -10C when we came down for breakfast, until the temperature struggled up to -9C by afternoon. But by then the early morning sky of blue had changed and clouds cluttered the sky, soon overwhelming the sun. And wind rose, blowing snow off tree branches. At these temperatures we needed to put little rubber boots on our little dogs' paws to keep them from freezing. And out came their heavy winter jackets and halters.

Immediately we stepped out the door to walk over to the ravine for our daily hike through the forest trails, the cold slapped our faces. Jackie and Jillie were fine with it. They remembered the ritual of pulling on those boots one after another, me lifting their little paws and Irving stretching the boots over their paws, from winters past.

They enjoy the snow, they really love it, but then most dogs seem to. As soon as we gained the forest they ran off downhill, their ears flapping in the breeze their action provided, Jillie barking happily in case any of her friends were nearby to hear her and come running. The snow keeps getting a little deeper every day as light snow falls now and again. We're now wearing those wicked cleats that Irving bought a few months back and they work very well, an improvement over those we've had for many years.

Full exposure for a period of time to the cold means you don't think about it any longer. Instead, just look around at the landscape captivating attention, the serene beauty of it all. We encounter a few other people out and their dogs are just as besotted with the landscape as are ours, the forest floor itself has become a playground, entertaining dogs' feet as they bound about in it and leap here and there with joy. And it's snowing again; gently, light drifts of snow continuing to cover the tree canopy and the forest floor.