The east-facing corner of the house was flooded with light this morning, as sunbeams poured through the kitty-cornered sets of windows, illuminating not only that room but the hallway behind it. Our bedroom would only light up in the afternoon and nor would the bedrooms at the front of the house host the full brightness of the risen sun. That corner room that Irving transformed into a library by building shelving from floor to ceiling, always catches the early morning sun, always makes me think we'd left the light on, overnight.

Irving listens to the news early morning in bed with one of his little transistor radios and earbuds. As much to hear the weather as to pick up what's new in the news. So he can whisper it all in my ear as I begin to stir and refuse to wake. The sun, he told me, would last until just after noon, and then clouds would close in and rain would begin sometime later and as the temperature began to drop, it would turn to snow.

That meant to make the most of the day and the prevailing early-day sun, we would best head off to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie soon after breakfast. Breakfast, needless to say, is late on a Sunday morning. It takes some time to prepare and we luxuriate over it, taking our time reading the newspapers. The melon we had wasn't as sweet as the summer varieties, and I peeled three bananas just beginning to ripen and discovered all three were rotted through the middle. Frost got to them, Irving thought. They looked fine before I took the peel off. 

We had French toast, and so did Jackie and Jillie as a special treat after their own breakfast. I went back upstairs to make up our bed, assemble all the towels from the bathroom, from the powder room, along with tea towels that comprise the laundry on a Sunday. I disassembled the top of the stove burners and stuck the pieces into the dishwasher along with breakfast dishes and pans. And then off we went to the ravine.

Milder even than yesterday, since there was not even a whisper of wind. The snow on the hillsides that could be seen yesterday was now melted. Only some ice remained on some parts of the trail network. But the sun was out full blast, lighting up the atmosphere, the footing was good and we followed Jackie and Jillie along the trails stopping when they did, continuing on when they did. A glorious weather day, but not quite as picturesque as when successive snowfalls have created a snowpack on the forest floor, and newfallen snow embroiders tree branches. 

On our return home, I continued my housework, and Irving went out on a few errands. He felt like having hot smoked salmon with the soup and croissants I'd be preparing for dinner this evening. And he planned to get a copy of a different newspaper because I had cancelled our subscription to a local newspaper we'd been receiving for about 40 years, just fed up with its journalists and the paper's focus neither of us cared for, any longer.

While he was out, Irving dropped by the library again. He had acquired some detective novels for himself along with a James Herriot book I'm sure we'd read before. When we were just kids 70 years ago we belonged to a 'book-of-the-month club and used to get the Herriot books, along with Elliot Mason novels and so many others we enjoyed reading. 

Today he brought back a book for me by one of my favourite writers, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. And a book about one of Shackleton's voyages in the Endurance, a subject we're both fascinated by and have often read about. And the third was by Simon Winchester, titled 'The Professor and the Madman', about the word-compilation in the making of the Oxford English Dictionary. When it was discovered that the man from whom the most erudite and prolific words and meanings had been received was a lunatic asylum inmate.

Irving headed right back outside, this time to the backyard. To cover the Three Graces sculpture; it's been in place there for almost 30 years and extreme weather exposure is beginning to ravage it. He also meant to fill the tires of the snow thrower, but first had to remove the chains, and he ran into some complications, so he was out there quite some time. He plans to be prepared for the inevitable.

Cold as it is, at -12C down in the ravine, it is mitigated today by the absence of wind and the presence of sun. The sun, at a far different angle in the sky now, higher and sticking around longer into the late afternoon, is warmer, enough so that even at that temperature it has been melting the snow and ice on the canopy over our deck. There's a steady drip-drip and a corresponding buildup of ice on the floor of the deck from the dripping sides of the canopy.

We really quite enjoyed last night's stir-fry. It was colourful and fragrant and tasted just right. The sticky rice we use is Irving's favourite, as close to the rice we ate while we lived in Japan as we can get, here in Canada. Grown not in Asia, but in California. It absorbs the cooking juices from the vegetables very nicely. And the few pieces of beef that were left over went down very nicely with Jackie and Jillie.

Last night I crept up carefully to the front door to get a closer look at the rabbit. He's been back and forth repeatedly to retrieve his carrots. Yesterday Irving shooed away a cat that had been lingering on the porch in the afternoon. The squirrels are most about in the morning hours and early afternoon, as are the birds. We'd prefer not to have a cat feel comfortable around the house.

Last evening, the rabbit must have caught an awareness of some movement because for the first time I watched as he positioned himself on his back legs and stood upright, sniffing and looking about. Not in my direction, but outside and beyond the porch. Until he was satisfied there was no one about that could spell danger, and he directed his attention toward the peanuts again. Later yet in the evening when we were on our way upstairs to bed, I found Jillie sitting quietly at the door, watching the rabbit.

The blasting wind of the last few days was absent today. As was the sky crowded with silver clouds. Blue skies and a very present sun always reflects the fact that we'll be in a bitterly cold temperature. It did warm up to -10C, which while not mild, was moderated by no wind and lots of sun. It's always a few degrees colder down in the ravine, so we dressed for it.

The footing was similar to yesterday's albeit a little firmer in some places. Unlike yesterday when there was no one else about while we were out, we came across a handful of people enjoying the winter day with full sun penetrating the forest canopy here and there. We also came across quite a few dogs who have familiarized themselves with the  presence of a cookie man whose presence they're alerted to when they hear two little dogs barking hysterically off in the distance.

Those barks are the signal that the cookie man is nearby and the dogs tend to arrive long before their humans do. Some of them are patient, and just sit primly beside Irving while he fumbles about to withdraw his cookie bag, and others frenetically leap about, insisting they Must.Have.A.Cookie.Instantly. Irving accommodates. Some dogs must think they've hit the jackpot if they come across us more than once which happens occasionally on the intermeshing trails.

We enjoyed a treat ourselves, seeing the return of the robins from wherever it is they sequestre themselves for days at a time when the weather is really raw. They were out in full number this afternoon, flying cheerily over, about and into the creek running at the bottom of the ravine, and now fully opened again.

Age contrasts present themselves in abundance. You can tell a young dog, say just reaching a year, by its robust enthusiasm and energy to spare. Older dogs tend to distance themselves from the obstreperous puppies, they don't relish being harassed and begged to play. They'll ignore them or exhibit a bit of temper to drive the message home. Could be some mature dogs find the antics of the young amusing, who knows?

When we were out this afternoon in the ravine with Jackie and Jillie before we wound up our circuit on what has been an icy-cold day with the temperature reaching no more than -5C, exacerbated miserably by the probing fingers of a rude and blustery wind, we met up with a youngish man we've seen often, and with him for the first time, along with his springer spaniel were his two children.

A little boy around ten and his younger sister. The little boy was blase about the cold, jacket completely unzipped and open, the better to display his oversized Montreal Canadiens hockey jersey, its flaming red against the sere, dull, background of the late fall forest shouting to the world at large: "Hey, look here, aren't I COOL!? 

And nor did his little sister appear to feel the cold, though her jacket was zipped up tightly to her throat. Mittens in hand, she juggled them along with a little bag of edibles, her little bare hands occasionally shaking something I couldn't make out, out of the packet and popping it into her mouth. Jackie was curious, trying to make out just what she was eating, leaning on her legs, waiting to be offered a treat.

The little boy had two bright green tennis balls in his hands and was lobbing them off, one after another for the spaniel, more than equal to the task. Leaping like a boomerang after the balls to retrieve them and bring them directly back for another throw. Little boys get bored with repetitive action far more quickly than expectant little dogs, so while Irving and his father were deep in discussion, the little boy wagered with his dog that he could win a race between the two. Not even close.

Earlier, in the morning, while Irving was busy measuring and doing the mysterious things that men engage in when they've got a mission to complete, I decided to bake a cheesecake for dinner dessert. And then I remembered I'd bought a pint of blueberries, and I thought why not a blueberry-glazed cheesecake? So that's what we've got for tonight. And a few times after tonight, since we cannot possibly eat all the luscious cream-cheese and white-chocolate ingredient-blend in one sitting.

Each time I went out to the backyard with Jackie and Jillie, Jackie challenged me to a race, come to think of it, as he often does, crouching low, tail like a metronome, waiting for my response. He's the racer, I'm the cheerleader. Eventually he gets the message, and then he and Jillie have a frantic run-about, under the deck, over to and around the garden sheds, up the deck stairs where the race turns into a boxing match.

But we did decide eventually to get out for a hike. It had been sunny all day, which did little to mitigate the ferociously icy wind and the bone-chilling cold. Even dressing with care, ensuring there are layers and putting on the thickest of turtle-necks and my windproof, down-filled winter jacket, it didn't take long in outdoor exposure on our way to the ravine to feel the cold too close for comfort, actually penetrating my defensive clothing.

I wore no iconic sweater I was anxious to reveal to the stolid, dark forest giants, so I kept my zipper up close to my chin, and shivered.