We're now past the mid-month mark in November and the usually morose, dark month continues to surprise us. Usually, conditions seem so stark by now with the absence of growing things in the garden, and colours reduced to their basics of dark and light, that we begin to anxiously await the arrival of snow to lend a bit of winter magic to the landscape. Seems it is not to be, not yet, in any event, as milder temperatures than normal continue and what might descend as snow comes down as rain, plentiful and cold. In the same token, the usually sunless November we know has been transformed to one currently that allows for sunny days which, combined with temperatures under freezing, make for comfortable forays into the forest on our daily perambulations there.

 

Of course when it rains relentlessly without stop for several days the opportunity to get out into nature comes to a full thudding stop. But for those whose companion dogs are large beasts who must get out regardless the weather, and our two little twimps are not in that category. They're content to remain in the house when it  rains and make that choice quite clear, in their reluctance to emerge any time rain pelts down hard, draining their enthusiasm for the out-of-doors.

 

By Friday, the weather began to clear, and at midafternoon out came the sun. For a while, in any event, until clouds moved back in. Until the clearing, it had been heavily raining, and we thought we'd miss another day of tramping through the forest trails. Earlier, I had baked an apple pie for a change for my usual Friday baking. One of Irving's favourite desserts. By the time I was finished in the kitchen, breading chicken cutlets for dinner later in the day and making a whole-wheat-cheese bread dough for croissants on Sunday, it was time to get out for our walk.

Since we weren't sure it wouldn't begin raining again while we were out, with the return of clouds obscuring the sun, it was rainproof jackets for everyone, Jackie and Jillie included. By the following day, chance of rain had diminished to a greater degree, and we were able to get out for a much longer, extended foray along the forest trails, wearing cold-weather, but not rain gear and we were much more comfortable. We pursued trails we haven't been on in a month or so, and the puppies were intrigued, revisiting old familiar places to check out the messages left by other pups; the canine version of neighbourly news.

 

Since it's Saturday and the temperature was in the 8C range, albeit windy with a prevailing dusky atmosphere, other hikers appeared here and there throughout the trail system, and with them their puppy pals, some of whom were very familiar with Irving's endless cache of cookies.

We saw chickadees flocking to a bird feeder hung alongside the trail on a protruding tree limb, interspersed with nuthatches taking their turns and even a female hairy woodpecker. None of those little aerial acrobats remain still for more than a second or two. They land, grab a seed and immediately depart for nearby trees. In the same token they're not shy of the presence of anyone passing by; repeating their performance as though oblivious of any interference in their comfort level.

 

 

Jackie and Jillie whose penchant is generally to remain on the trails, found it irresistible today to forge their way through the forest floor steeped in the most recent layer of leaf mass, in search of aromatic essences emanating from the presence of droppings, fascinated by the messages they find there, too. Which obliges us to keep tabs on where they are and what they're doing to ensure they're not indulging in that curse of rancid coprophagia. 

 

 

The landscape looks forbiddingly abandoned of colour; few remnants of foliage left. The forest floor itself is now barren of vegetation; it has all receded, awaiting the return of growing conditions in the spring. It's a mixed forest of conifers, evergreens and deciduous trees. The largest of which tend to be maple, willow, pine and spruce. The presence of the latter ensures some green remains, but the defoliation of the former presents a landscape nude of the greater presence of shades of green.

 

The result is a skeletal formation of dark trunks in the absence of prevailing green, where black-and-grey dominate the visual appearance of the landscape. Verdancy absent, the eye grieves the changed aesthetic. Which is reason enough to applaud the presence of snow, slow in arriving this year. And judging by the weather we've been experiencing up to now this fall, there's the distinct possibility that the winter of 2024/25 will not be one of snow abundance. Milder temperatures can bring more freezing rain and icy conditions may prevail.

 

Regardless, when that time comes we'll be prepared, with ice cleats strapped on over our boots. And that alone will be no different than any other winter when, once the snow flies and conditions for freeze-and-thaw eventuate, it becomes dangerous in a forested ravine with all its ascents and descents not to be prepared for challenging conditions underfoot.