You can discover something new every day. At my age you think you know all the little tricks that make life easier, but sometimes you discover you really don't. I posted a photo a few days back on my Twitter account asking if anyone else had ever come across a bunch of bananas that were rock-hard and refused to ripen. And I received immediate answers. One from a friend who lives somewhere in the tropics who actually picks her bananas off banana trees. On one occasion, she said, she picked a bunch that failed to ripen and she ditched them.

Another two friends gave me an immediate solution, though I hardly guessed it would turn out to be that. Place them, each of these friends said, in a brown paper bag. I was skeptical. And where would I get a brown paper bag? Then I remembered that years ago I had put some aside in case I'd ever need them. I originally used them to store glass outdoor ornaments like hummingbird feeders over winter. The bags are so old the paper has become stiff and crackles and tears easily. But in went the bananas and this morning I selected two that had turned a mellow yellow.

 

Another thing; last week I thought I'd add a spoonful of honey to the yeast dough I was preparing for dinner rolls. The honey accented the dough beautifully, even though I had also grated cheddar cheese into the dough. The two made a luscious combination. And the buns, which I rolled into croissants, were really good. This week I repeated the combination but used unbleached flour which might have made a difference because finished bread products with unbleached flour turn out differently, not as light as ordinary bleached all-purpose flour. I had brushed them with egg and the result was beautiful in appearance and even better in taste.

 

 

They were meant to go along with a pea-bean and vegetable soup for dinner. The still-croissants and the hot soup perfectly complemented one another. I had made an egg salad for Irving to have with his rolls, but I had two bowls of soup and two croissants and that really did me in. Just enough room left for strawberries and yogurt.

Today's one of my busiest days; house-cleaning. So we were late getting out to the ravine for our afternoon hike with Jackie and Jillie. A perfectly gorgeous day, with the temperature nudging up to 6C, and brilliant sun. Despite all the snow I went out with J&J without a jacket to the backyard and it felt heavenly. When we did finally get out to the ravine, we could see that there were gaps in the snowpack on the forest hills where enough snow had melted due to rain events and melting snow to reveal the bare earth here and there. So we're on our way.

 

The creek is running full, and roaring over impediments on the way; fallen tree trunks and other detritus littering the runway. By the time we had gone out, the sun had gone in. But halfway through our hike out it came again, illuminating the landscape and we felt grateful it had seen fit to drop by again and greet us on this lovely day.

 

Just before we left the house I had put a pot roast on to simmer in our absence. I tried something different with it, too, as it happens. I still had most of a bulb of fennel and I thought why not cut it up and include it in with the roast, along with tiny potatoes and chopped tomatoes? When we returned the fragrance of our dinner welcomed us back home.

Yesterday morning when we came down for breakfast the  temperature stood at 4C, and it was still raining after an all-night rainfall. This morning, the thermometer read -14C, and the overnight snow had finished its work. As though to celebrate, the sky cleared to a piercing-bright-blue and the sun rode across it in triumph, illuminating the snow to a blinding ferocity of whiter-than-white.

What we lost of the accumulated winter's snowpack in yesterday's rain, we gained back overnight with the newfallen snow. Before we went up to bed last night, it had already been snowing for quite a while. The ferocious winds accompanying the snow made for a whiteout blizzard. Irving thought he'd be ahead of the game by shovelling out a portion of the backyard pathways so Jackie and Jillie could get out first thing in the morning. And while he was at it, he cleared some of the already-gathered snow off the porch and threw out a fresh lot of peanuts. The rabbit had been by earlier to collect his carrot.

Trouble was, so much snow had fallen, it completely obscured the peanuts and the trails shovelled out in the back filled right back in again. So we both went out and shovelled the pathways clear of the new snow, about a foot deep, to enable Jackie and Jillie to get out and do their morning business ritual. Where they detest the rain and hate to go out into it, they love the snow, just as all dogs seem to. So they had the opportunity to cavort about a bit, as well. But it was cold and it was windy and they didn't tarry long.

We'd had Spanish paella for dinner last night, so we weren't particularly hungry for breakfast. Doesn't matter what volumes of food our puppies eat they're always hungry. The paella was really excellent. Once again, Irving dug in and made me a happy cook. And the result of that meal was that once again we ate more than we really needed to -- but it was that good. We topped it off with sliced strawberries kiwis and for dessert. 

We've missed three days now going out to the ravine. The ankle that Irving had sprained on the icy forest trails feels a whole lot better now. And he was prepared to give it a go today, but I wasn't. He had already done some house vacuuming, gone back out to clear the snow off the porch and the walkways, and I figured he had taxed his poor foot quite enough for one day. He's just so anxious to get Jackie and Jillie out for their usual daily tramp through the ravine.

I decided to bake cookies today. Irving opted for rolled sugar cookies. Memories of his mother's baking. So I used half the dough to make strawberry sandwich cookies and the remainder just plain cut-out sugar cookies that he so much enjoys with coffee. While he was out shovelling, I was indoors rolling out cookie dough and using a tumbler to cut plain round shapes. And then I made a whole-wheat-cheese bread dough and put on a chicken soup to cook.

It is kind of getting to us, not having the opportunity to get out into the ravine. We miss not moseying about on the trails. But as long as his ankle feels better tomorrow, we'll catch up then. By then the trails in the ravine will have been tramped down well, smoothing out the bumps and ridges that rain and flash-freeze had caused and which was, we suspect, the source of Irving's sprained-twisted ankle. Slippery enough for me to lose my grip on the forest floor twice, despite wearing cleats. 

In downtown Ottawa police have begun seriously dispersing the protesters, having their rigs hauled off, arresting those who defy the orders to clear out of the Parliamentary Precinct and nearby neighbourhoods disrupting life for the residents. It is all so very sad. The protesters have a legitimate grievance, one this government is deaf to. Even though they were scorned by the prime minister whose response and general contemptible behaviour is the source of the problem, it's time for them to move on and return home.

Well, Jackie and Jillie may have missed their habitual walk through the forest trails, but there are other, almost-compensating rituals that we didn't miss. They asked and they received. As usual, I cut up fresh salad vegetables for them. They each have their own salad bowls presented to them twice daily. Once in the afternoon and then once again, representing their dinnertime 'desert'. By the way they anxiously await their salad after having their dinner, it's clear they do regard the vegetables as the most favourite part of their daily food intake.

 

Something different caught my eye in the seafood section when we were shopping on Tuesday. Greenshell mussels from New Zealand. I thought they would make an interesting addition to fish chowder. But yesterday, musing about the evening menu I thought why not paella? I hadn't made it in ages and yesterday was as good a time as any. I had all the necessary ingredients; rice, saffron, onions, garlic, chicken, fish, tomatoes, bell peppers...so why not?

The first time I ever had paella was when Irving took me to a restaurant, I think in Shinjuku district, called Almond. Downstairs it was a cafe, upstairs a restaurant. And there we ordered paella. Irving had eaten paella before, in Vancouver, but I wasn't with him then, it was a business affair. I thought the meal in Tokyo was superb; imagine in Japan a classic Spanish dish. But in Tokyo cuisine reflects special dishes from all over the world; we ate Indian food there, too along with Japanese classics while living there and I cooked a lot of Japanese-type meals.

And last night's paella satisfied us immensely. Don't eat too much Irving cautioned me. He rarely tends to, but I often do. And last night I did, though suffered no ill effects afterward. All that nutritious goodness and sensational taste, how could I?! 

And though it doesn't seem quite right when everyone around us is celebrating Christmas, eating fruitcake and fruit pudding which I've often made in the past, we decided something else would do this year. I offered mincemeat pie or pumpkin pie? Irving chose the latter. As it happened, I had frozen the contents of half a can of pure pumpkin back in October when I'd used the first half for a pumpkin pie. I took it out of the freezer last night, and out of the refrigerator this morning. And later on set about baking a pumpkin pie.

 In the afternoon Jackie and Jillie informed us in no uncertain terms that they were fed up with our carousing, and it was time to leave the house for a leisurely tramp through the woods. We agreed and off we went on a quiet day, Christmas Eve, in fact with no one around on the street but us heading up to the ravine entrance under a silvery sky, snow crunching underfoot. Our street now boasts a winter-permanent layer of snow-on-ice that will disappear in spring.

It's only three days since the shortest day of the year, and though the forest interior is always shy of exterior light it was obvious that dusk was intent on arriving surprisingly early. We came across a friend of whom we asked how his grandmother was faring. He had last told us that his 99-year-old grandmother, living in an old-age home for the past several years had been feeling poorly and that COVID had been identified in several of the residents. She since died. A long, busy and fruitful life.

At one junction Jackie began loping along on three legs, keeping one of his back legs hoisted. Soon afterward he asked to be picked up, quite unusual for him. Jillie had done the same thing yesterday. We had been standing around talking to people we know, and assumed she had a bit of a chill.  Then it occurred to us that the two incidents could be linked, that Jackie could be wearing the bootie that Jillie had worn yesterday and it had a puncture. That's just what happened, we discovered on our return home, so that boot won't be used again.

By the time we exited the ravine, people's Christmas lights had come on, and the street was beginning to blaze with all the colours of the rainbow. 

There, I admit it, I'm mad for cheese. So's Irving, but I think I'm a tad more fanatic about it. There are some cheeses we both enjoy, and some I leave to him. Brie and Camembert are not especially attractive to me, nor any of the other more exotic types of cheeses highly celebrated in Europe. When it comes to the spreadable type I'll stick with plain old cream cheese. Cheddar -- the 'older', more ripened the better. And I try to sneak it into anything.

I knew when I was making a quiche yesterday that I was grating too much cheese onto the pastry crust. That didn't stop me. I layered green peas over the cheese (another food addition that I plop into many casserole-type comfort dishes), sprinkled them over with   chopped green onion, then whipped up the eggs, included pepper and Worcestershire sauce (as long as the taste isn't too pronounced) and scattered in dehydrated chives, and finally 10% cream.  Beat all together to a froth,  I poured it into the shell and stuck it into  my little toaster oven. Why bother putting on the stove oven for a little quiche that could bake as well using less energy?

Oh yes, when Irving, to my astonishment, suggested a quiche for dinner I could hardly believe it. Although he's an inveterate egg-aficionado, quiche has never been a go-to dish for him. When we were speaking with our younger son a few days back he happened to mention he was making a quiche for dinner, and that inspired Irving to make that suggestion. One little 'recommendation'; that he would appreciate my including bits of bacon in it. So be it. He ate it. Huzzah!

 Ever since his open-heart surgery years ago his appetite has been in the doldrums. He was once a robust eater, but following that operation he would typically eat less than me at a meal, and I'm  considerably smaller and weigh correspondingly less than he does. Now, he is after all that time, regaining his appetite. I'm delighted to carry a plate away from the dinner table that isn't full of leftovers.

I was planning to make a Shepherd's Pie for dinner tonight, another wintry-cold day. He noticed the defrosting lean ground beef and thought...spaghetti!, one of his cold-weather favourites. Then he saw me scrubbing a few potatoes and realized it wasn't spaghetti I was preparing. And when we were out in the ravine he casually brought up the topic. He would have preferred, he said, spaghetti. Since I hadn't yet started on dinner, I reverted to making little meatballs and preparing spaghetti sauce.

Another night of -6C, but the day warmed up fairly quickly to 2C, whereas yesterday the high for the day was -2C. Both days were windless, and both days had their share of sun, but by the time we set out for the ravine at half-past two this afternoon, the sun had exhausted itself and allowed clouds to crowd the sky. Still, though it was cold, it felt that much less cold than yesterday.

When we'd arrived back home after yesterday's ravine hike we were pleasantly presented with clean little paws. Only two passes with a wet, soapy sponge all that was required to clean Jackie's and Jillie's feet yesterday. Today, a different story. Although the forest floor felt firm underfoot and there were no real muddy areas to traverse, the deeper penetration of frost that yesterday gave us had been substituted for a thawing process. Our two puppies patiently endured about a dozen swipes, each time the sponge coming away with dark, clear imprints of their little paws.

The weather will continue on like this -- freeze-and-thaw -- until the snow begins seriously covering the landscape. And that isn't too far into the future. 

I really, truly, have no wish to go anywhere where I will be in close contact with anyone. I've cancelled appointments at the hospital for check-ups because I hesitate to appear there. But several days ago an old filling was suddenly missing and when I run my tongue along the two teeth between which there is now a gap the size of the Ausable Chasm, I 'grit my teeth' and will go to the dentist to get it looked after. That's what I've got to look forward to, tomorrow.

Today no appointments anywhere, which is just how I like it. Irving needs to get new eyeglasses. Although his current pair isn't that old, and he had non-glare and non-scratch features on the lenses, they're somehow well scratched and need replacing. The odd thing is that unlike me, he is careful with his glasses. As soon as the optometrist strike is over in Ontario he'll make an appointment for an examination and see if his prescription needs changing.

I suspect many other people react just as we do when it comes to making appointments revolving around their health and well-being in this time of the novel coronavirus. Contact is minimal, crowds to be avoided, masks mandatory and the result is that this area is being very well managed, with a fairly low case count. Occasionally we'll see a child on a bicycle wheeling down the street with a mask on. That's a mother who is concerned to a fault, and a child who is obedient to that concern.

Irving took Jackie and Jillie out to the ravine last thing before we went up to bed, last night. On the porch, was a single, very small -- the smallest we've yet seen -- little raccoon; earlier a pair of quite large raccoons were scooping up peanuts. If either of the two families had been around, we missed them. A few minutes later, when we were getting into bed, the sound of voluminous rain hitting the window. And it rained profusely all night, one downpour after another.

So it's a soaked landscape we have, but despite weather warning of possible thunderstorms erupting in the afternoon, we've had a bright sunny day of 22C, just perfect for a hike through the ravine. When we were preparing to go out, Jackie and Jillie tore through the  house in a wild escapade of jubilant expectation. This was well before we asked their permission to prepare ourselves to forge into the woods with them.

And so, we did, and we found the forest floor surprisingly wet everywhere. Just yesterday it was dry when we expected it would exhibit at least a bit of reaction from previous rainfalls. Conditions were such that when we brought Jackie and Jillie home and washed their paws after our hike the previous few days it took forever to get them clean. Today it was so wet that their paws were sparkling clean.

When we made our way out by going through the meadow first on our way up and out of the ravine, there were two young boys with some rudimentary gear in the creek by the output pipe busy trying to corral goldfish. None were to be seen, the water was fairly turbulent from all the rain. This wasn't their first foray and they were determined to bring home a few fish to join others they had managed to scoop up in their home fish tanks. When I see boys engaged in this kind of enterprise, I think of our own youngest when he was that age.

I was contemplating what to prepare for dinner tonight and I had two likely candidates, then settled on a savoury harvest tart. I don't make them very often, and we both like that combination of vegetables and cheese in a double crust. It starts out with gently stirred garlic and onion in olive oil, and I added some fennel seed. When the bottom crust is rolled out, in goes the cooled garlic/onion. Then anchovies, because Irving suggested we add them. Over that layer, a layer of shredded Mozzarella cheese, followed by sliced tomatoes sprinkled with oregano and basil. Then more cheese, including Parmesan this time. On with the top crust, and into the oven!

 

We're not yet prepared to surrender the comforts of winter. As in exchanging the comforter on our bed for a lighter cover. It's just too comfortable, given that the night-time temperatures still bear little resemblance to the moderating highs of the afternoon. We enjoy feeling snug and warm in bed throughout the night, and although I did suggest it was time to change over to spring bed coverings, the oppositional growl from Irving quickly persuaded me otherwise. For the time being.

Likewise with our meals. For the time being at least, we remain wedded to our enjoyment of comfort food. So last night we ate one of those really sturdy meals comprised of a beef stew heavy on onion, garlic, mushrooms, carrots and potatoes. Ladled over buckwheat groats, and green beans served on the side. With fresh strawberries for dessert. It all went down very well. Jackie and Jillie kindly offered to help us with the difficulties inherent in disposing of the meal.

It had rained all day yesterday. No let-up in the rain whatever. Not our puppies' favourite choice in weather. Jillie had to be continually persuaded that she had to empty her bladder at some point during the day. The prospect of rain falling on her, her tiny paws becoming wet is just too much for her to bear.

In the evening, there it was. That sound. To make certain that we'd heard it, Jackie barked warningly to bring our attention to the fact that we were experiencing the first thunderstorm of spring. In fact, there occurred a series of thunderstorms throughout the night, with heavy rain accompanying the fury of the thunderclaps, the emphasis of the lightning strikes. All of which we tend to enjoy.

We figured that the all-day rain topped by the thunderstorms would certainly finish off the snow in the backyard and front gardens. And it almost did. Snow remains, but a tremendous amount of the snowpack has now disappeared. We can see tulips beginning to emerge from the newly-liberated garden soil, and even lilies. The corkscrew hazel in the backyard is drooping with catkins. Climbing rose canes are turning green. 

It surely won't take but a week or so for the rest to depart. And then I'll be squinting carefully at the ground, at shrubs and trees to spot the first signs of return to life. Now and again a flock of geese will call down from above as they make their return migration. Irving heard a song sparrow yesterday, so they're returning.

We anticipated that conditions in the ravine would be emphatically heading toward spring. We hadn't been out yesterday because of the rain. We weren't surprised to see how much snow had melted. On the trails leading into the ravine the snow that had covered the ice buildup over winter had melted, leaving only the ice, so it's tricky ascending and descending the hills; it is a ravine, after all. That trickiness is the primary reason that we saw few others out on the trails.

The other reason is the messiness, great standing pools of water, slush, mud and a singular gaunt unattractiveness of an early-spring landscape. Everything looks dark and sere and will continue to appear that way until new life begins to appear, along with wildflowers and foliage. There are for the time being large puddles appearing here and there on the plateau portions of the forest, while on the slopes of the hillsides meltwater flows steadily downhill and ultimately into the ravine's creek, now thrashing and boiling away with runoff.

Yet it's amazing how quickly the thick snowpack surrenders to the change in season. And it's equally amazing how thirstily the forest floor absorbs the melted snow. Gratifyingly for committed hikers it's also surprising how quickly the morass of muck dries out under the influence of the spring sun and milder temperatures, taking us steadily deeper into spring.

Today is the day we had originally made appointments for our first anti-COVID inoculations. Until we read in the newspaper this past Monday that the automated bookings for March 23, 24 and 25 had seen a problem arise through double bookings. The article advised people to call the provincial number contact to correct the situation. In that a new appointment had to be scheduled. So the rigmarole was repeated, waiting seemingly endlessly for a response on the other end, for the purpose of re-scheduling our appointments.

First off, it was the online registrations that had gone awry. Once the questionnaire had been completed with all your applicable data proving eligibility to enable registration, people trying that route were suddenly confronted by a blank screen with the tiny message: "tampered". When I read that I thought I had done something wrong in filling in the application, but no, this occurred to just about everyone trying to register online.

So we tried telephone booking and did an internal "hurray!" when we were given today's date for our vaccinations. Now that too had been messed up. Our new appointments are for Friday. In this morning's news, however, a report that thousands of people showing up as instructed for their appointments at a number of area vaccination sites, including the one we're to report to, found the situation repeating itself. Double booking again. Such that the city put out shuttle buses to reduce the waiting crowd and drive them to other sites. 

The kind of gross ineptitude that can only leave you shaking your head with dismay and wondering can't they get anything right? The province hasn't been able to inoculate more than fifty percent of over-80s, yet it's inviting people over 75 to begin to register for appointments. Demonstrating how best not to inspire confidence in government efficiency.

Adding to the gloom, an all-day rain. So it's dark in the house and it feels damp and cooler than it really is, and Jackie and Jillie may be bored, but they harbour no interest whatever in getting outdoors on a rainy day. I actually have to order Jillie to get out there and pee. She finds it horribly distasteful to get her tiny paws wet and will do just about anything to avoid wet grass. There's some snow left in the backyard and that she's not averse to settling on to relieve herself. Go figure.

But Spring has arrived and April is just around the corner. It's when, beyond my best intentions to ignore the inevitable, thoughts of spring cleaning come to mind. So I thought I'd start off with taking down and washing the window sheers. It's a drag, hauling them all down, removing the countless hooks, washing and drying the sheers, returning the hooks and re-hanging the sheers. Although our windows are covered with stained glass, in the summer months the heat of the sun is conveyed to the house interior by the stained glass and the sheers are drawn to prevent that. What works beautifully in winter, sees the reverse in summer.

Yesterday we had an especially long ravine hike, and it's just as well we did, since there was no opportunity today. Jackie and Jillie are mollified by the presentation of their usual after-hike bowl of fresh vegetables, but we acutely feel that something is missing from the day. 

 Yesterday we had a macaroni-and-cheese casserole for a change, with a fresh vegetable salad. It felt kind of springlike. I used whole-wheat pasta, and when I was preparing the choux, added marble cheddar, and lots of pepper and dry mustard. When it was done, I added sliced green onions and mixed it all into the cooked macaroni. Then I layered the pasta with frozen green peas atop which I spread canned pink salmon and the final top layer of pasta. Breadcrumbs and Parmesan cheese over the top, it was popped into the oven, and dinner was done.

 

We hadn't had a stir-fry in awhile, so yesterday we did. Instead of broccoli this time I used baby bok choy in deference to Irving's expressed taste-choice. Combined with chopped garlic cloves, onion, shallot, cubed yellow bell pepper, sliced mushrooms, the bok choy makes a nice combination. I had marinated a tender cut of beef for several hours in garlic, olive oil and soy sauce, and stir fried it in small squares separately. And this time instead of rice, we had Chow Mein noodles to serve as the platform for the stir-fry. Nice to change ingredients around from time to time.

We had the day before received an email confirming our Wednesday appointments for our first doses of the COVID vaccine. Trouble was, we were supposed to receive an acknowledgement for each of us, since the one we received had only my name and the vaccination number assigned to me for presentation when we showed up at the vaccine clinic. So we had to contact the health ministry again, to have them verify that we had two appointments, fifteen minutes apart, and obtain the identifying vaccination number for Irving. That done, we look forward to next Wednesday, and hope we'll be getting the Pfizer vaccine.

 Another sunny day, and increasingly milder, with little wind. Jackie and Jillie sense when it's not as cold and they ask to go out to enjoy the sun. It's actually the only time our two little spoiled brats will go out on their own; at all other times they want us to accompany them, even if it's only to the backyard. This morning they spent quite a while out on the deck, sunning themselves. By themselves.

It was a little earlier then usual when we set out for our ravine hike this afternoon. We still haven't accustomed ourselves to the strange sight of the street looking utterly naked; all the accumulated snow and ice that had been acquired over winter has now melted. And everywhere else we look on the street it's obvious that the snow is finally retreating. Next, needless to say, comes the muck-period between the snowpack melting and the ground drying out. We'll tackle that challenge when we come to it.

The really icy conditions underfoot have now undergone another transition. What had been glassy-hard and slippery up to yesterday is now soft and mushy. Improving footing, of course, but also slushy and on the inclines, ascending and descending hills, tending to be just as slippery. You take a step forward and your foot slides backward. But progress is made at the cost of energy expended.

We can hardly believe it, but the incursion of non-ravine-trotting community members has come to an abrupt end, from our experience the past week. Those that we do see are people we've known for ages. The regulars who come through the ravine from far points of the community, one area after another. So we tend to stand around and talk, and those talks largely feature the weather and the novel coronavirus.

Everyone is in agreement that the health authorities from local municipal to provincial to federal, have all performed poorly. Mixed messages have confused everyone; not just the public but the medical community itself. Poor decision-making on the part of the federal government has failed to stimulate people to any level of appreciation that they really know what they're doing. One of our friends whose wife is confined to a wheelchair must make arrangements to get her to a central vaccine clinic. One might think it to be more advisable to have units of the local health authority visiting the homes of these people to administer doses.

Our conversations were not all about those two topics, however. One of our friends told us of an experience she had shared with another. Both had been walking together a few days ago; one with her three border collies, the other with her husky. At one point one of the trails loops around adjacent to the back of a street and some distance away the backyards of the houses on the street can be seen. At one of the houses there was a bird feeder and on the ground under the feeder, a squirrel was enjoying seeds.

 

The husky crept around behind a shield of trees and moved suddenly and quickly to leap the fence, then pounce on the unwary squirrel who did not live to tell the tale of a narrow escape. The home owner had evidently been looking out his back window at the time, and had seen the unfortunate little drama. He came barrelling out of the house breathing fire, cursing and demanding that the women be more responsible, and keep the husky on leash so it could be controlled.