After yesterday's busy day it was a quiet and comfortable relief to sit down to dinner. For a change I decided to make a roast beef. So I surrounded a small eye-of-round with fingerling potatoes and let the oven do its magic. I had pre-cooked beets to make it easier to peel them, and then sliced and honeyed them, adding lemon juice afterward, to serve with the sliced roast and potatoes.

Beets are such a magical bright red colour. Beautiful to look at, but a nuisance to clean up from. Jackie and Jillie appreciated their little share of the roast and although they love vegetables we kept the beets and potatoes to ourselves. They'd already had their salad, in any event. Whatever is left over of the beef will be slivered and fried up with lots of onions for sandwiches.

By the time we shut off our bedside reading lamps it was half-past one. Next thing I knew, Irving was dressed and had just returned from shovelling out snow on the backyard walkways for Jackie and Jillie. We were early because it's shopping day. Snow was coming down so heavily vision sightlines were impeded. By the time we left Jackie and Jillie in the house as we prepared to drive to the supermarket snow was swirling about so thickly it was almost a white-out.

The roads were slippery with new snow; without winter ice tires I don't know how anyone could drive with confidence on Ottawa Valley roads. Traffic was light; the weather keeping many people at home, we assumed. At -6C, it wasn't too cold, just a driving wind and thick snow descending without letup. We had missed a week of shopping and the refrigerator and pantry were lower than I can ever recall even though we had picked up fresh fruits and vegetables mid-week.

It took forever to get the shopping done. The shopping cart was full to the brim.  We had four large plastic containers of groceries and four heavy bags full of groceries to bring into the house from the garage. Our frantic puppies calmed down when Irving gave them some fresh cauliflower to chew on, and then he helped me put all the groceries away.

He was busy after breakfast, winding some of his clock collection, and moving some things around from room to room. He decided to bring an old grandfather clock up from the downstairs recreation room to sit in a niche in the foyer. It's actually a grandfather case clock he made himself from scrap wood decades ago. He made the face of tin and he painted traditional motifs on the face. When he was finished he installed an antique clock movement that he had bought about fifty years ago and it still runs perfectly.

Snow continued unabated all afternoon, and stopped only at 4:00 p.m. So much had accumulated that we knew it would be beyond difficult to wade through the deep fluff, both for us and for the puppies. It was deep enough for them to disappear in while trying to paddle through it. We'll give it a go tomorrow, we told them, after the trail had been broken by others, far younger than us and with more energy to spare.

The snowstorm that left us with an additional 30 cm of snow yesterday is called a "Texas Low"; wouldn't think we'd be affected here in the far frozen north 😜by a  weather system coming out of Texas...! But there it is, the weathermen know it all. And no sun for us for a while, as well. We've had flurries all day, more forecasted for Saturday and on Sunday, 'periods of snow'. 

There's such a buildup of snow now -- and we haven't yet reached February -- it equally rivals the largest snowpack of any year. Alongside driveways on the street the snow is piled over my height. That it's beautiful looking is beyond dispute. Yesterday school buses were cancelled, so that must have been popular with students, if not with their parents.

No shovelling required today, so that's all to the good. This morning yesterday's newspapers along with today's were awaiting our notice on the porch. Newspapers weren't delivered yesterday; too much snow to wade through for anyone delivering house-to=house, so we've got a lot of reading to catch up with. Perusing the news on the Internet is fine in small bits, but for a full reading of the news there's nothing like hard copy.

I asked Irving what he'd like me to bake and he suggested a chocolate cake. I really prefer to bake 'cakes' in small sizes, so cupcakes come to mind. But his birthday is coming up, and so an exception is in order. I suggested leaving it for next week, as a birthday cake, but he said he'd prefer today. Next week I'll do something with sweet bread dough and dried fruits for a change.

I haven't baked a cake in quite a bit, and I remembered how often I would bake his favourite, a 'Red Devil's Food' cake I heartily disliked. It is a light and airy very dark chocolate cake, depending heavily on baking soda for taste and texture and I detest baking with baking soda; I cannot abide its taste. I suppose I could substitute baking powder, but I know the end result would be different. So this is his cake, for his birthday ... um pre-birthday.

When we set out for the ravine in the afternoon, the height of the snowpack on the street seemed quite impressive. It's relatively easier to judge the height of the snow in an urban setting, as compared to a forest, where the landscape just seems to open its arms wide to absorb the snow. We're quite aware, hiking through the ravine, that we stand a lot higher on the trails, given the layers of tamped down snow and ice.

The bridge rails present no difficulty for people taller than I am to look over into the cold running water of the creek, but now that the bridge floor is packed tight with layers of snow, it's easy for me, at this temporarily raised height of the bridge platform, to now easily sight anything over it.

The resident pileated woodpecker was at it again, busily chipping away at tree trunks, delving into the heartwood after unceremoniously hollowing it out in search of grubs. The sight of squirrels in deep winter is much scarcer now, though we see them far more frequently at home. I put out peanuts and  small squares of leftover buttered toast and broken-up carrots in the morning, and by the following morning it's all gone.

Oddly enough we had a tougher time clambering uphill during our ravine circuit today than we did yesterday, even though the trails had seen more people out through the course of the two days of snow. It's a relief when we reach the ridge and can walk for a while on a straight plateau before having to plunge downhill once again as we continue our hike toward the last of the uphill climbs and home.

After dinner last night a forecasted snowfall began and it snowed and it snowed. By this morning there was quite an accumulation of fresh snow, fluffed grandly over the existing snowpack. So out we went to shovel out the walkways in the backyard before breakfast, so Jackie and Jillie could more easily get around. When they went out first thing they were confronted by a wall of snow. Last night there was already so much snow at midnight they could hardly make their way down the stairs of the deck.

 

By this morning considerably more had come down and for them it was literally swim or sink until they reached the bottom step and slipped over to the paved area under the deck free of snow. While Irving cleaned them off and towelled them back in the house I grabbed the smaller of two snow shovels and began lifting snow. Most of the walkways were done before we called it quits, since Irving planned to take the snowthrower out and complete the job once snow stopped falling.

 

In the afternoon it was still snowing.  By mid-afternoon when snow finally came to an end we went out for our hike. Some of our neighbours were out shovelling their driveways, and for one of them faced with a driveway piled high with snow and ice facing the road by the municipal plow, it wasn't much fun that his snowblower had suddenly decided not to work. We sympathized, Irving offered to clear out the mess when he got our own machine out, but it just happened that one of his sons was visiting and would do the work.

 

We weren't sure we could even access the ravine, seeing the depth of t \he snow that was left on either side of the street, but we clambered over the barrier and made our way to a trail that had already begun being tamped down by those who had gone into the forest before us. We sighed in relief, with memories of past years when we were the only ones to break trail.

 

The height of the snowpack is evident now as we look at the forest; familiar landmarks tell us the difference in the snowed-in height of the trails themselves, and the snowpack that has surrounded and elevated itself around trees. We estimated that around 20 cm of snow had fallen from last night to this afternoon. When we did the shovelling on the pathways in our backyard the visible depth was about a foot.

By afternoon the winds had abated somewhat and the temperature hovered at -4C, so a bit milder than yesterday. Anyone lacking a good sense of balance on this snowy terrain with its loose, uneven surface would have had quite a time of it. Jackie and Jillie love the snow, love to frolic through it, and they race about happily, still able to sniff all the messages left behind by their friends.

 

Our uphill slogs were far more of an energy challenge, the depth of loose snow both an impediment and a help as we mustered a modicum of energy reserve to finally reach the top of the hills and alternately slide downhill when we descended. Momentum is certainly different and so is normal cadence, since  you end up shifting from side to side in the uneven terrain.

But the beauty of the landscape cannot be overstated. We heard a pileated woodpecker nearby but were unable to see it. The only time I came literally face-to-face with one of these magnificent birds was before the advent of digital cameras and I've been  hoping ever since I'd have another opportunity to photograph one up close and personal; no luck yet.

 

Everything is plush with snow, the landscape softly off-white in the dusky atmosphere of a heavily overcast afternoon. The soft contours of the ravine's geology, the stark contrast of the dark tree trunks now lavishly piled with snow, presents a breathtakingly beautiful picture of winter perfection. By the time we rounded out our afternoon circuit there appeared an unexpected bright blush on the horizon.

The setting sun cast a brilliant pink hue onto the clouds as it made a passing presence while setting. The clouds on the horizon had begun to break up, the snow long since over, and the sun found an opportunity before leaving for the night to cast that evanescent glow of bright light as though promising to return as soon as possible. Perhaps tomorrow.

It tells you something about the heating power of a winter sun when you see its effects in action. Take, for example, the sheet-metal canopy over our deck, piled high with snow. When the snow accumulates to a depth of over six inches, the manufacturer recommends the snow be cleared off the canopy. So at least several times throughout the course of the winter Irving has to climb a ladder on the deck, to use a long handled roof 'rake' to get all the snow off. 

The danger is if the canopy, weighted down with snow and ice collapses onto the deck while someone happens to be standing or momentarily walking under it, the consequences have the potential to be serious. We can be assured, however, that if sun follows the heavily clouded day that gave us a heavy snowfall, the sun will do the work for us.

 

Following our last two-day snowstorm that left 26 cm of snow and a piled-high canopy, we've enjoyed a number of consecutive icy-cold, but clear days. The sun does its work very efficiently; day one of full sun melted the snow and ice at the corners of the canopy. Today is day three of -7C degrees with full sun and the canopy is now almost entirely shed of all that snow. Of course nothing is ever as simple as it seems. As the snow melts it drips and falls on to the deck. And it takes no time at all for the melted snow lying on the deck, to become an icy surface.

One potential hazard solved, another pops up. But one that's more easily controlled. We just avoid those icy areas and feel grateful there's no need to manoeuvre about with ladders and rakes in awkward positions. Both risk a fall, but one type of fall s far riskier than the other.

 

We set out with Jackie and Jillie a little later than usual for our ravine hike today since it's house-cleaning day. The sun had already set when we left the house a tad after four, but there was still ample light. Once we're in the forest the ambient snow cover also emits a bright light, temporarily keeping dusk at bay. But it seems to take little time before we realize that yes, dusk has entered. And by the time we leave the forest it's become dark.

Hiking conditions on the trails are just perfect. the snow has been well tamped down by many booted feet and dog paws. The trail tends to be narrower on offshoot trails than the main trails, but they're easily negotiable. We've had no wind to accompany those sunny days, so nothing has really much disturbed the snow layered thickly on tree limbs and branches. 

 

When we descend to the bottom of the ravine and turn toward one of the bridges fording the forest creek Jackie and Jillie are always busy sniffing about to discover who has been there before them. They are able to scent clues anywhere, even on newfallen snow. It reminds me of us reading the daily newspaper. They pick up the neighbourhood dog news.

As we approach the bridge Jillie always looks above to the hills leading to the ridge and the trails up above to check whether anyone is out and about up there. Long before we mount that hill ourselves she is loudly proclaiming our presence. Her shrill barks sometimes elicit responses in gruffly deeper tones and most often they're her friends whom she has alerted to cookie opportunities. It takes no time before some of her friends join us anxious not to miss any handouts.

 

What's for dinner tonight? Well, on another -7C, icy day where the temperature is set to drop again close to -20C overnight and we had a lentil-bean chowder with freshly baked dinner rolls yesterday, today's dinner will be different A beef roast, Yorkshire pudding, green beans and fresh blueberries with yoghurt for dessert. And a little bit of all of that for Jackie and Jillie after their own dinner.

 

When we went up to bed last night we knew we were forecasted to receive another two to four cm of snow overnight. When we woke this morning a serious snowstorm was underway, yet again. Not that we've yet recovered from Monday's 47 cm. When it was over we had acquired another modest 10 cm of fresh snow. Enough to fill up the porch and deck again, not to mention all the pathways, the stairs and of course the driveway. 

 

 

It certainly can't be faulted for beauty. There is nothing quite so lovely as a landscape of newfallen snow, the more that falls the more glorious the spectacle. Tree branches encased in white fluff, tracks where squirrels were up before us searching out peanuts under the snow on the porch. And what's that? Oh, our daily delivery of newspapers somewhere in there, under the snow. 

 

 

Mind, we've always had a newspaper hook beside our front door. And always in the past whoever delivered the newspapers made use of that hook. More than earning their Christmas tip. But for the past year, we've had a change in whoever it is that deposits our newspaper on the porch floor and despite putting up large handwritten signs pointing to the newspaper hook, only once did the deliverer place the newspapers where they were supposed to go. Retrieved, snow knocked off the bundled papers, good as new.

 

We backed up over the new snow, no problem this morning before breakfast. And found the streets somewhat slippery, but we've got ice tires and they work well. Besides which there was very little  traffic, surprisingly. And it takes only a ten minute drive to get to the supermarket. Where there were few vehicles in their parking lot and fewer yet shoppers in the store. The hated but oh so necessary masks...

 

The shelves were full, lots of fruit and vegetable varieties and all other edibles there, as well. But, strangely, no corn flakes, no rice crispies. The eggs I prefer weren't on the cooler shelves but there were plenty of substitutes. The shelves of fresh orange juice were half-stocked, but by and large no complaints. I don't seem to be able to get frozen half salmon sides any more, not for the past several months, but other forms are available.

 

 

Irving spent quite some time with shovel and snow thrower cleaning up the newfallen snow. Oddly, it's Jillie now who doesn't seem to mind forging ahead through the snow, and Jackie who seems perturbed when it reaches his chest, so they were relieved when everything was plowed out in the backyard, leaping about the pathways happy as two little larks. Around the same time our driveway was plowed out but it will take some time for municipal crews to clear the street.

 

The high temperature for today was -13C, windy and heavily overcast. But it seemed much milder than yesterday even though the sky was clear yesterday. And once we clambered over the hill of snow clogging entry to the ravine, a narrow trail presented itself tamped down a bit more firmly than it was yesterday. More snow clung to trees. The wind scattered snow off the crowns of deciduous trees, leaving the understory and conifers to bear their beautiful cold white burden.

 

This time we did come across others out on the main and secondary trails, four others with their dogs, all of whom are on very friendly terms with Irving. The giveaway at a distance is Jackie and Jillie's barking, luring dogs familiar with them to an unerring passage toward the trail we happen to be on. Where they approach Irving and with exquisite docile politeness wait for him to extract some cookies for them from his pouch.

 

Poor us. Winter has departed and spring is arriving everywhere, just not here, where we are. Another snowstorm this morning. The third this week, actually. No sooner do we dig ourselves out of the latest  snow dump than another appears on the horizon. Trouble is, it doesn't stay on the horizon, it moves steadily over our winter landscape and unlatches the door to that low metallic ceiling that stores all those wondrously brilliant-white snowflakes and lets go.

The exercise, time and again, leaving us bemused. There is nothing quite as mesmerizing as focusing on fresh falling snow; there are so many permutations; light snow, clumps of snow, wet snow, dry snow, large flakes, minuscule snowflakes, swiftly falling, lazily descending, and they all have their singular characteristics. I keep meaning to take a photograph of an igloo that appeared one day on a lawn down the street. I don't believe it was constructed in the traditional Inuit way, cutting blocks of ice and setting them atop one another.

Our son who spends a lot of his winter out in the alpine reaches of British Columbia was once instructed in the fine points of igloo-building; there's a way to do it properly, and to manage that curve at the top. He's been involved on the rare occasion with igloo-building, once even slept overnight in one. This igloo down the street is very large. And it's also potentially dangerous, so we hope that the parents who built it for their young children are aware of its potential to collapse as soon as milder weather is here to stay.

We have an awful lot of snow to melt, at some point. And that point may begin in the next several weeks, despite the ongoing snowstorms. When it begins to melt it seems to take forever. Some people take to trying to chop up the ice on their driveways, anxious to see them free of snow and ice, others shovel into the snowpack on their lawns to try to distribute the snow evenly so it will melt faster. The accumulated snow  tends to be much higher, needless to say, at the edges of driveways adjacent lawns where the snow is thrown or blown when driveways are cleaned out after snowstorms, and they can attain considerable heights.

 

Today's storm blew itself out after 1:00 in the afternoon, and Irving fired up the snowthrower to ream out the walkways in the backyard for Jackie and Jillie, then proceeded down the side of the house and the walkways at the front of the house. By the time he was finished the last of the snow descending also completed its mission.

We decided to wait awhile before heading out to the ravine -- to give others the chance to get out on the trails and tamp them down a bit. As things turned out it was a little more difficult tramping through the snow on the street to get to the ravine entrance than through the trails in the forest. They had indeed been nicely tamped down by many boots before ours entered. Yet for the hour-and-a-half that we made our way through a short circuit we saw few other people.

The snow is deep in the ravine, undulating gracefully over the hillsides in smooth, bright-white comforters. The trees and forest shrubs are all thick with snow, a dazzling sight when eyes are accustomed to seeing dark brown tree trunks against the lofty white of the forest floor, and instead encounter white everywhere. Branches and boughs are brought low, groaning under the weight and depth of snow they now carry.

But at the same time there was a brisk wind, particularly in the higher reaches at the canopy level and it was doing a fine job of releasing snow from the trees, falling in wide arcs thick with descending snow. We became well covered with snow, walking beneath trees that suddenly shook lose of their snow burden.

When we left the house the temperature had risen from morning's -6C, to -1C, and a light sprinkling of rain stopped us in our tracks on the way up the street; should we continue or return home? It's cold enough to be very unpleasant if we got very wet; so is it going to rain heavily or not? The dark clouds moving quickly across the sky gave us no hint of what was to come. But suddenly the sun came out from behind those clouds and they quickly scudded off, ushered away by the wind to reveal that wonderful blue of a clear winter sky.

 

 

Should anyone wonder why it is that Canadians are so consumed by the weather, this is one reason; the extremes and unpredictability of Canadian winters. No sooner had we cleaned up from yesterday's all-day snowstorm, than we're encountering another one directly afterward. Well, of course we can  handle all of this, Canadians are accustomed to snow, snow and more snow.

Ottawa, the nation's capital, gets lots of it. So do two other capitals in countries known for emphatic winter conditions; Moscow and Ulan Bator. Ottawa comes third in both the temperature and the snow volume department, evidently. 

Of course more snow was forecast for today, after yesterday's dump. Snow is delightful actually, it charms the eyes and brings out the child in everyone, recalling memories of delving deep in the soft, velvety, bright and elusive flakes of snow, so malleable, so cold, so useful as a plaything, from throwing snowballs to making snow forts.

It wasn't until after dinner last night when Irving went out in the dark to shovel the pathways for Jackie and Jillie in the backyard, thinking that would be it. Despite snow coming down all day from morning to night, we only had an accumulation of about 7 cm yesterday. And the temperature overnight was absolutely balmy. It was still 1C this morning, and rose later in the day to 2C, delightfully mild.

Surely the snow would turn to rain? Nope, nothing of the kind. Great, huge snow clusters is what we got. Stunningly beautiful, and helping to build the snowpack on the roofs of our two garden sheds in the backyard to a height respectably similar to every other winter we've experienced. It isn't the snowiest winter we've had by any means, however.

Out in the ravine there was little evidence of wind, and it was comfortably mild. Vision was somewhat occluded by the heavenly transformation of the landscape into one of those fanciful little snow globes that transfix children. When it snows like this the sky has a metallic cast; it resembles aluminum or pewter in colour, but is actually reflective of what the ground looks like; a chalky white shade. 

In between the white ceiling and even whiter 'floor' there is the atmosphere itself looking as though someone has draped a giant white veil over the landscape, shortening down sightlines and emphasizing the fairytale aspect of a winter forest. Strangely enough, despite the mild temperature, the exquisite beauty of the landscape, the excellent footing, few others were out in the forest as we were.

Utter serenity prevailed, a hushed quiet over everything. Jackie and Jillie still found ample enticements through messages left by other dogs alongside the trails that kept them focused first on one side of the trail, then the other. Slender twigs had come down from the weight of the snow on the trees, and they're like irresistible candies strewn about for two little dogs that fancy them as chew-treats.

Evergreen boughs hung low with the burden of snow, its quality more wet than lofty. From time to time a section of accumulated snow would plop away from an overburdened branch; fine as long as we weren't under it. The milder weather is bringing squirrels out of their semi-hibernation. This morning our resident pair of cardinals were singing in the backyard, their brilliant crimson feathers stark against the white sky.