When we set out on our hike in mid-afternoon today, the temperature was a nice 0.7C, quite a departure from yesterday's -10C, exacerbated by wind, although the sun was out. It was a terribly cold day and we felt the effects of both the icy temperature and the wind on our bare faces, even infiltrating our warmest winter jackets. It had snowed yet again overnight and kept snowing throughout the day today, mostly light flurries, alternating from time to time to heavy-duty snow. We shovelled out the pathways in the backyard before breakfast for Jackie so he wouldn't have to flounder in its accumulated depths. The snow was so light and fluffy it hardly took much physical effort.

 

By the time we set out for the forest, there was yet another accumulation on top of the snowpack that has been steadily growing this week with most days offering ongoing snow events. It was also one of those times when the snow became heavier as we plodded up the snow-packed street. By the time we reached the ravine and left street level it became evident that the milder temperature and beauty of the landscape had drawn a good number of people from the larger community into the forest.

 

 

There were dogs big and small everywhere, trailing their humans or breaking track in front of them. So many of them were familiar to us, just as we were to them, and they demonstrated that familiarity by settling down in front of Irving as he fumbled with his cookie pack. They're so well behaved. There are times when the excitement of anticipation of a treat will stimulate one or another of them to leap onto Irving's chest, but a quiet remonstration usually sees them settling back down. 

 

It was also one of those times when we saw a family with small children out with sleds, the children delighted to be out, seeming to prefer rolling in the snow rather than trundling downhill in a parent-controlled haul. Their shrill shouts of joy in the season gave ample reason why winter is favoured by the young.

A half-hour after entering the forest we suddenly looked up to the sky, astonished to see a wide blue canopy above and the sun making its entrance. The weather forecast for the day mentioned the snow would stop around five. As it was, great clumps of snow lay everywhere on conifer boughs and naked branches of deciduous trees. There was little wind, not enough to disturb the smooth lengths of mounded snow on the trees. Tree trunks were plastered with snow, and the forest floor resembled a stark white coverlet lulling the forest to sleep.

 

A half hour later we suddenly realized that snowclouds had moved back in and it was once again snowing. As we progressed through the trails the snow became heavier. Most people out with their pups seem to see the utility of dressing them for the cold, including some who thought boots would also be a good idea. We came across one individual we'd never seen before with a miniature-sized pup completely unclad and gave him our street address, offering a winter coat for their pet, but they said the 4-year-old hated to be dressed.

 

 

Others we came across whom we haven't seen in several weeks asked about our missing Jillie and we had to explain yet again, painfully, that we'd lost her several weeks back to congestive heart failure. She had been coughing for quite a while and we thought she had a virus like kennel cough. When we took her to our veterinarian clinic the vet who examined her said, no not kennel cough, gave her a thorough examination, mentioning she had a heart murmur, which we've always known. Both she and her brother were diagnosed with heart murmurs many years ago. They're now 13. He gave us a prescription for an antibiotic just in case, and we put them through a 10-day course of antibiotics.

 

A week later we took them for their scheduled two-month grooming at the spa next to the veterinarian clinic. As usual, we did the grocery shopping and then picked them up, shampooed and groomed and brought them home. An  hour later, Jillie was coughing heavily, and seemed to be having difficulty breathing. We gathered them both up and drove to an emergency animal hospital closest to us. They looked after her immediately. The examining vet told us her stomach cavity was filled with liquid, her heart condition had suddenly become acute, affected her liver, and there was nothing they could do to save her.

 

 

In her absence Jackie seemed lost, unstable, psychologically frail. In fact, exhibiting much of the confusion and disbelief that we felt ourselves, at the loss of his sister. We haven't left him alone since. We've scheduled an ultrasound of his heart to determine the state of his heart chambers in case there is anything we can do to forestall a similar catastrophe for him. 

 

When people ask about Jillie's absence, we explain the reason, what had happened, and they offer their consolations, but speaking about it, hurtles us back into grief over her absence. Memory of her joy in life, her antics, her very personalized persona, her emotional needs and even the last time -- not more than few days before her breakdown -- when she and her brother indulged in one of their stand-up wrestling matches and they were so full of life together. It tears me apart.

 

A half-hour after it began snowing again, the wind suddenly picked up, bellowing and howling through the ravine; unusual since the forest canopy usually serves to shield us from wind that is evident at street level. Snow was tossed everywhere, great sheets of opaque veils blowing off the trees to such an extent that it became a complete white-out with almost zero visibility. It was at that point that we ascended the last of the hills to make our way back home.

 

 

Well, then, so much for my aspirations to begin cleaning up the winter-deposited detritus on our lawn, for today. 'Man proposes, nature disposes', as relevant an observation now as it ever is. Last evening snow began falling, and it came down generously all night. When we woke in the morning, it was to a white world once again. Old Man Winter cannot be persuaded -- in any given year -- to depart our landscape, this year is no different. When March comes to an end, it's with a sense of relief that we bid it adieu for another year; the month that begins to introduce melting snow, milder temperatures and rain, while invariably relenting to give pause to winter's departure, persuading the elements to display a parting winter landscape.

And that is just what confronted us this morning. The temperature below zero, sky heavily burdened with snow clouds, and wind whipping the snow into a froth. I hardly expected that before breakfast this morning I'd be out in the backyard shovelling snow for cleared pathways once again, for Jackie and Jillie, so that when they enter the house after exiting for their morning bathroom breaks they're not little snowdogs. They demonstrate their gratitude by ignoring the clearings and heading straight for where the snow is deepest.

Yesterday Irving had mentioned that I hadn't baked eclairs for a long time. I'd completely forgotten about them as an option for my Friday morning baking tradition, it's actually been that long. Truth is, I'm not myself all that fond of the eclairs, but he is. So I decided I'd give them a go after a long absence. There are three stages to putting them together, so they're a little fussy, but they're also a challenge. Beginning with the choux. I put together a half recipe, since there's only the two of us now as compared to years back when I cooked and baked for a family of five.

A half-cup water to a half-cup flour doesn't seem like a lot ingredient-wise, but even that makes at least ten middling-sized puffs, so that's more than enough. The process is to bring the water along with 1/4 c. butter to a boil, add the flour and a sprinkling of salt, quickly mixing it into the water/butter vigorously beating under reduced heat enough to incorporate everything into a thick ball. Once done, taking it off the heat, then adding two eggs, one after another and continuing stirring and beating until a thick, smooth choux results. And it takes energy to do that; a wooden spoon and strong right arm helps.

 Once the puffs have baked (400F for 15 minutes; 325F another 20 minutes), I simmer a vanilla cream filling comprised of icing sugar mixed with cornstarch, 10% cream, butter and vanilla until thick, to stuff the puff interiors, then melt baking chocolate with a little butter to top it all off. It was a hit with Irving, and I found them tolerable enough. Besides which, it's enjoyable to me to putter around the kitchen with different treats on Fridays. It's when I also put together a yeast-raised dough to be refrigerated and then used on Sunday for dinner rolls to accompany a winter-hot savoury vegetable-bean soup.

In the afternoon today we dressed good and warm for the weather: 0C, windy and by early afternoon, some vestiges of blue sky interspersed with mostly snowclouds, dropping flurries now and again. Environment Canada had warned a great swath of Ontario south of us of freezing rain conditions that had already caused electrical interruptions for tens of thousands of households.

We hardly thought, a mere three days before the calendar arrival of Spring that we'd see the forest reflecting its white winter garb again, but that's just what we saw. Jackie and Jillie were pretty happy about it, as are most dogs. There had been enough people venturing out into the ravine before us so that the trails were beginning to be trod down. Last night's layer of snow -- about 10 cm -- laying lightly over the ice on the trails. Where the snow was disturbed it was clear that the ice had glaciated back to sliding conditions in reflection of the cold temperature.

Crows crowded the sky above, mobbing in their celebration of spring, and we could hear the staccato of woodpeckers in the distance. The creek was running full of meltwater from days before; muddy and agitated, carrying detritus downstream with it. And looking cold, very cold and crowded with fallen tree trunks. 

The cleats on our boots were picking up clotted snow clumps, but not intolerably, as would be the case if the atmosphere was any milder, melting the top layers of snow. Jackie and Jillie wandered about everywhere on the newly-made more attractive forest floor, scenting what we cannot (thank heavens) and paying close and deep attention to the messages thereof. Conditions underfoot were not ideal in the sense of being slightly laborious, but tolerable. By the time we emerged from our circuit back to street level we felt well exercised.

 

 

 

We slept in late this morning. Too late to bed last night. It's me, mostly, spending hours in the evening writing my blog entries. It's become a habit, one of long standing, at least a decade now. I value it because it gives me so much satisfaction. It's a mental challenge to decide what I mean to write about each day and at the same time it makes me feel oddly fulfilled that I commit to it. The blog that I dedicate to literature, posting short fiction, commentary, book reviews and poetry is a different kind of challenge of much longer duration, and it's been going for longer than the political and social commentary blogs.

In any event, I really do dislike sleeping in, although it's necessary for our well-being in having enough sleep on those occasions when we retire too late at night. Irving doesn't mind, he usually listens to lectures or current affairs discussions or watches some kind of drama on his little portable computer. The puppies are always fast asleep while we're both busy. Jillie could sleep forever, but Jackie gets a little restless when midnight approaches. He wants to go  upstairs to bed, but won't, until/unless we do too.

 

We had, as usual, a leisurely breakfast after our showers. Jackie and Jillie eat first. Not just their kibble, and bits of fruit and cooked chicken, but they also, between them, share an egg; fried, scrambled or hard-boiled as a 'second breakfast'. Then they busy themselves cadging from Irving while we're having our breakfast. I've given up protesting, try not to notice him slipping them bits of melon or egg from his plate, or toast under the table, when I'm 'not looking'.

Neither of us was particularly busy today, since it's Saturday, our 'day off'. We dressed Jackie and Jillie in their winter coats, halters and booties and made off for the ravine for our daily tramp through the forest trails at mid-day. A day that brought light snow flurries followed by clearing skies and full sun to brighten the house interior. For a change, there wasn't enough wind to make the daytime high of -5C seem colder than it was.

 

We'd have appreciated a decent snowstorm. Nothing spectacular mind, just enough snow to cover the ground, say about 10 cm at the very least. That would help our traction on the trails, on the ascents and descents. The underlying ice on the trails becomes more and more exposed as the days go by without a refreshing snowfall. Our ice cleats strapped firmly to our boots help immeasurably -- we wouldn't even attempt to traverse the trails without them. But even with the icers the trails have become so slick and slippery we can feel the icers having problems getting a grip and there's the occasional aborted slip.

The puppies evade the iciest portions of the trail, searching out areas with sufficient snow clumped over the ice to make their gait slip-free, and their little rubber boots help. I try to navigate the trails by avoiding the central portion of the trails when it's possible, where the ice is the slickest. Irving is less concerned over a fall than I am, despite my urging him to take awkward side trails as I do.

We haven't been seeing too many other hikers out lately in the woods. Unsurprising, since not everyone has icers and people would prefer striding along with confidence in their gait, not continually scouting out opportunities to avoid disaster. We did see in the distance when we were up on a raised portion of the ravine, looking down over a descent we had negotiated earlier, someone taking to sliding down the  hill on their rear end, rather than risk a fall. Clearly, someone lacking the protection of icers on their boots.

We saw no birds, much less squirrels or any other creatures; hunkering down in this weather. We see more squirrels, birds and rabbits on our front porch and side stairs than we do in the forest, these days. They come to visit for the offerings of bread and peanuts that Irving puts out regularly. We most often see the rabbits at dusk, crows, juncos, chickadees and cardinals throughout the day, and black, grey and red squirrels in the mornings and afternoon. Our puppies consider their presence an offence against their stewardship of our property.

Once Jackie and Jillie had their salads I turned my attention to dinner. And nothing is more palatable at this time of winter than steaming  hot and flavourful soups. So today it was a garden-vegetable soup to simmer on the stove until dinnertime. Chopped garlic cloves and onion in olive oil simmering with herbs, then celery, red bell pepper, snap peas and tomatoes, a bouillon cube and bay leaf does it. The fragrance of the soup pervades the house with its promise of a nutritional and good-tasting evening meal.

 

Heading out to the ravine for our daily tramps through the forest has become a lot more complicated lately. The spontaneity of collar, harness and leash and off-we-go was strictly summer mode. As summer waned and fall entered, there were subtle changes; light little sweaters for all of us, including Jackie and Jillie when the ambient temperature began to bite a bit. As the days grew progressively cooler, the quality of those sweaters changed to counter the cool nip. Now that it's quite cold, early-winter gear has become necessary. 

 

And although it took an unusual length of time this year for snow to arrive, it finally did, yesterday, a cheering sight, illuminating the seasonal gloom of the forest, covering leaf-bare branches with glittering new snow, that fairy-tale aspect that forests take on in winter. With temperatures of -2C, and snow on the ground, Jackie and Jillie had their little rubber boots added to the snow-proof winter jackets. They didn't mind, they gamboled like little lambs off-trail in the forest interior.

 

Today, it's a lot milder, even though snow fell again, most of the day. The mild temperature (2C), changed the character of the snow from light and fluffy to damp and heavy. Yesterday when we ventured out we hadn't come across too many people, but they, like us, took special care on the hillsides of the ravine, finding it fairly slippery and unwilling to sprawl on the forest floor. It does take away some of the enjoyment of plodding through snow when you're not footsure.

Because it was milder today Jackie and Jillie had no need of their boots, but we pulled cleats securely over the soles of our boots to regain that footsure balance. We no longer needed to walk with such care, but the snow, because it was damp, clumped thickly underfoot so that at times it took a real physical effort to pull our boots clear of the snowpack. 

Even without boots today, Jackie and Jillie were delighted with the snow, leaping happily about everywhere. They discover unending opportunities to sniff strange (or familiar) new odours that intrigue them no end; at times it seems as though they share their thoughts, one possibly asking the other what they made of any particular 'fragrance'.

 

Today we only came across two other people on the trails with their pet companions. One of whom we were familiar with, the other not. Yesterday we'd come across a woman from the wider community who was uncertain where she was, which trail network she should be on, to return her to be able to access her street, so we did a little trail orienteering for her. Her rambunctious little scamp of a dog was having the time of its life, running challenging rings around our two.

Finally, on the last third of our circuit, snow started up again, falling in little clusters, the wind picking them up and sending them in an almost horizontal direction. Last night, Irving had gone out at midnight to shovel the accumulation in the backyard, clearing off the deck and the stairs and clearing away some of the sidewalk trails we have installed in the backyard, so Jackie and Jillie would have less to contend with in the morning.

 

As a result of the snow continuing all night, however, since I was downstairs before Irving, putting the finishing touches on breakfast, I took a break before he came downstairs and repeated his effort of the night before. And then invited Jackie and Jillie to join me out in the backyard, once they had finished their breakfast.

When they were months-old puppies they used to go a little berserk with joy in the winter, chasing one another endlessly around the backyard, standing on their hind legs and boxing, teasing one another from one end of the backyard to the other. On occasion they do that also in the house, in an excess of happiness or when they're anticipating an imminent mealtime. They've more latterly added chasing the rabbits that come about in the backyard, and intently sniffing the ground where presumably they've last been. We suspect they have little nests under the garden sheds.

 

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.

 

We lingered in bed this morning, in no hurry to rise. We tend to do that when  we wake to a heavily overcast morning, and this morning was certainly that. Jackie and Jillie were fine with it, they just cuddled closer to us, while we discussed the morning news between us. Glancing at our bedside clocks that had just a short while earlier informed us it was eight o'clock, we noted dark blanks instead of brightly-illuminated numerals telling time, as we moved our lazy bones out of bed. Unexpectedly, no electricity. We soon discovered that even the telephone land lines were out, when they're usually not during brief electricity lapses.

With no way of knowing how long we'd be without electricity (which didn't stop us from automatically flicking on light switches as we moved about the dark house), Irving put the fireplace on, to dispel a bit of the damp darkness. Then he went downstairs to the basement and returned with an oil lamp, and he retrieved old antique candelabra and candles (we can't even remember the last time we bought candles) and placed them in strategic spots in the kitchen.

 

He'd also brought up an old blue-metal camping coffeepot and a few cooking pots. Then he went out to the deck to turn on our direct-gas-fired barbecue. I had fed the pups and taken them out to the backyard briefly, and as we returned to the house rain began falling. That rain would eventually turn to hail, and then rain again. Good thing we have a metal canopy over the deck to cover the barbecue. We boiled water for tea and coffee and cooked up steel-cut oats for bowls of oatmeal for us.

Irving used a mortar-and-pestle on the coffee beans, since the electric grinder wasn't on duty. We had just enough light on this darkly overcast, windy morning to read the newspapers as we lingered over breakfast. Finally, at noon, on came the lights we  had flicked so expectantly when they weren't available.

 

With electricity returned I set about my usual Friday kitchen activities, among them making a bread dough to refrigerate for use on Sunday, and baking lemon-curd squares. Then it was time to take ourselves off for a romp through the forest trails. In the interim the sun had come out for a brief period before again departing. Since rain was forecasted for the afternoon and it was cold and blustery (we could hear the wind blasting down the chimney through the fireplace) we needed to bundle up against the cold and the potential for a rain squall while we were out, and that included rainjackets for Jackie and Jillie.

 

The amount of detritus, branches and bits and pieces of pine, and defunct tree parts that had come down last night and this morning in fierce wind blasts surprised us; the trail was littered heavily in some areas. And we noticed that the mad forest-trail raker had been out again at some point, feverishly plying her rakehead to the forest trails, piling up desiccated foliage closer to the interior and we just shook our heads in wonderment at the peculiarity of peoples' ideas of appropriateness. A forest, after all, is a forest.

 

We had come across the woman yesterday afternoon as she  was assiduously raking the initial long hill we descend from street level into the forest. A brief conversation ensued to no one's satisfaction. It is an odd anomaly to see anyone invested with the belief that forests should be tidy, neat places and with that conviction go about the tasks to achieve something not even remotely resembling a neat and tidy forest since nature is jealous of her sovereignty, and most sane people respect her for that.

Jackie and Jillie met some of their canine friends, long familiar with Jillie's loud welcoming barks that penetrate through the forest to other networked trails. They know that wherever Jillie is there will be cookies. And just as Irving hands out cookies to an appreciative doggie audience that responds to Jillie's invitation, Jillie knows who, among her friends' people-companions also carry cookies and she rushes over to them knowing they they are wont to dole those treats out to her.

 

Nature has gone off on a teasing tangent. Most of last week was so cold we wore hats and gloves along with our pre-winter-warm jackets. And Jackie and Jillie wore theirs, as well. Days when the wind whipped through the forest made it seem even colder than the 3C that it was. Three days ago torrential rain and wind consumed the day. Yesterday? Heavily overcast, morning rain as well as wind, but the temperature nudged up to 17C, a big difference from 3C. So no hat, no gloves, no warm, woolly jackets. Today built on yesterday's balmy atmosphere. 

 

Still overcast, yes, but occasional burst of sun forcing its way through the cloud cover, and warming the interior of the house. And the temperature rose to 20C, surely a record for November 6th! It was a tempestuous day in other ways, since the results of the American election were in and firmly established that Donald Trump has returned to the White House. He's so unpredictable it makes us wonder what kind of unexpected and possibly impetuous decisions he'll make in his first week back in office. But we'll have to wait for his January inauguration to find out anything like that.

 

Irving is still in the throes of cleaning  up his workshop of years of  accumulated detritus. He's always been like that; creatively constructive, but loathe to clean up afterward, and waste-wood and coloured glass had a tendency to pile up. He also likes to save things; anything he construes as having potential for hitherto-unimagined use is set aside for another day. And there are times when he'll find those bits and pieces useful; waste not, want not.

 

 

Yesterday I made an eggplant-cheese-tomato casserole. I'd place that in a once-again, now-and-again category, it's so good; wholesome and fragrantly delicious. Any dish that Irving will eat with gusto is a winner for me. This time, I took the  trouble to peel the eggplant before braising it in the oven. It's actually not a requirement, but he prefers it that way. The casserole is easily put together in three layers of tomato sauce, eggplant slices and cheese. It's a savoury dish that we both enjoy. And a good way to use up tomatoes. The sauce is simple enough; chopped garlic cloves and onion simmered in olive oil, chopped tomatoes and bell pepper added, and also a half-tin of prepared spaghetti sauce. The eggplant slices are sprinkled with a herb mixture and baked briefly in the oven on both sides beforehand.

 

 

Today's ramble through the ravine with Jackie and Jillie was pure pleasure. A gentle breeze augmented the warm atmosphere. There's hardly any foliage left on the trees, now. And the piles of leaves that descended to the forest floor have mostly lost their brilliant hues, turning grey and limp and crusty in turn. There's some squirrel activity; despite the unseasonable warmth, they know instinctively that it's time to gather what they can for their winter pantries.

 

When we returned home, I decided, given the opportunity, to haul out the wheelbarrow and use the bags of sheep manure and peat that we had stored, to enrich the garden beds and borders. The weather was perfect for it; the soil had been turned and I was hoping that using it as compost would further dissuade the neighbourhood squirrels from digging up any of the tulip bulbs I planted last week. Mind, I had poured a little bloodmeal/bonemeal into each of the cavities before depositing the bulbs, and I believe squirrels are adverse to bloodmeal. I did discover that some of the bulbs had been revealed, the soil covering them dug out, but the bulbs themselves were still sitting there, intact.

 

Just about everything has been done in preparation for snow flying in. And there's satisfaction in that; everything shipshape. And just to emphasize how prepared we are, Irving's friend who works as a mechanic for the RCMP and privately has a business where he comes to people's homes to change their vehicles' all-purpose tires to ice tires was by this afternoon to do just that, with ours. 

 

A relative rarity. A day when we're forced to bypass our daily hike through the forests with our puppies, by circumstances beyond our control. And certainly weather falls into that category. Not only do Jackie and Jillie balk at being outside in the rain, but when it rains non-stop, and heavily, when it's cold enough that there's a chance the rain might turn to snow, it's inordinately unpleasant to be out at such times. So we had to forego our walk.

In a sense, we shouldn't have minded, since Mondays are house-cleaning days for us. Irving does the vacuuming and leaves the rest to me. For the past several days he's also been busy down in his basement workshop, having finally decided that it was past time to clear away the waste wood that had accumulated with his many projects. So he was downstairs cutting up the wood that lay in waste piles, so he could finally clean up the floor there where his saws sit. 

 

 

As for me, I felt a little less time-stress while doing the cleaning, with the knowledge that there was no need to race through the dusting, mopping and floor-washing. Actually because I had 'extra' time I decided I'd just go ahead and do other cleaning chores that aren't done regularly. And that included using Swiffer hardwood-cleaning wet wipes meant to be installed on broomlike appliances, only I preferred doing it on my hands and knees.

 

And while I was at it, I thought I might as well wash the floors downstairs in the basement; the floor of the basement bathroom and the large one in the 'recreation' room. These are all past projects of Irving's, installing drywall, room separators, plumbing, electrical work, to create separate, dual-purpose rooms out of the large, open cellar, after we moved to this house 33 years ago. 

I like to plan on what I consider to be quick-and-easy meals not requiring a lot of preparation on days like that. So for yesterday I put a Cornish game hen on the menu, along with an egg-noodle-raisin pudding, and asparagus, with fresh blueberries for dessert. The game hen only needs to be brushed with olive oil, sprinkled with garlic powder and mixed herbs, and stuck in the oven to roast. The pudding just needs the noodles briefly cooked, then whipped up with eggs, pepper and raisins.

 

When we awoke this morning it was to more rain. Rain continued for a few hours, then we cheered when the sun broke through, but that lasted only an hour before the dense cloud cover returned us to darkness. On the positive side, the temperature rose from yesterday's 3C, to 15C today, and since it was humid, it felt quite comfortably warm. Warm enough that our pups were clad in light jackets and the same for us. It felt like such a relief to be out on the trails this afternoon. Jackie and Jillie were clearly delighted, spurred on by the delectable (?) odours wafting at them from the wet forest interior.

There were chickadees about, and a loud chorus albeit off in the distance of crows, and we speculated that they were in an uproar about the presence of an owl; that's what often draws attention to the presence of an owl perched high on trees in the forest canopy, when they're surrounded by indignant, hostile crows berating and harassing them.

We stopped briefly several times to chat with an occasional hiker whom we've become familiar with over the years, updating us on what's been happening with them, or around their community, and when we stood there we were certain that all the signals for a return of rain were present. But as it happened, despite the wind moving bruised clouds above us through the brooding sky, we were able to complete our circuit of the woods without the discomfort of a sudden rain squall. All to the good.