With rare exceptions I absolutely detest telephone calls ringing in of a morning. And this morning was one of those. First a call from the dentist's office offering an earlier appointment for teeth-cleaning than was scheduled, and Irving accepted. Then a call from the Hearing Aid office that my appointment with the audiologist was bumped forward a half hour tomorrow afternoon. Finally, a call from the medical clinic from our family physicians' home-visiting nursing teams comprised of a nurse-practitioner and a registered nurse, wanting to know whether I had been keeping track of my blood pressure, asking for the values of the last five tests I'd taken.

 

And then, following hard on those telephone calls, the doorbell rang and Jackie and Jillie went into guardian action. It was a young woman 'selling' a refurbishing driveway service. And it turned out she was representing a student group that we had hired last year and the really professional work they had done of spraying the driveway quite impressed us. So we agreed to have it done again.

 

 

Our neighbour Melanie across the street was first, and we were second. The young people doing the work; this time a young man and a young woman -- to be joined eventually by a third young man, fully equipped with professional gear, set to work. Clearing away any weeds that had established themselves in  driveway cracks, cleaning up areas where garden soil slopped over from the gardens onto the driveway surface, making is easier for the garden vegetation to spread beyond its limits. Finally vacuuming up any detritus before spraying.

 

That preparatory work took them hours. I was cleaning the  house, but took long enough to compel them to stop and seat themselves in the garden nook. Then I took out a chilled bottle of Cranberry juice, drinking glasses, and individual fruit-flavoured yoghurt cups with spoons and told them to relax. They had been working like demons, on a 30C-degree day in the full sun. They were happy to oblige and I was satisfied to see them relax. 

 

When I finished washing the floors, out came Jackie and Jillie with me to saunter briefly around the backyard while I snipped a generous amount of chives to include in a potato salad I had planned for today. Earlier, I had boiled Yukon Gold potatoes and a few eggs. To the cubed potatoes I added chopped celery, green onion, snow peas, bell pepper and chives. I prepared a dressing of salt, pepper, cider vinegar, olive oil and mayonnaise. Some of the dressing was used on a tin of tuna meant to top the potato salad which was turned out over chopped lettuce into a bowl. 

Jackie and Jillie were constantly at my feet in the kitchen, drawn by the sound of chopping vegetables and the irresistible aroma of fresh vegetables entreating me to share some of the goodies with them. So I prepared an early salad treat for them, while I was working on our potato salad. Finally, we were ready to venture out for a ravine hike, speculating just how hot it might be with the  temperature flirting with 30C. As soon as we got into the shade of the forest canopy, and felt a quite brisk wind, we knew our tramp through the woods would be without discomfort.

 

The wind kept insects down, and the forest canopy ensured we weren't roasted in the sun, making the heat and humidity quite tolerable. We hadn't seen little CoCo for ages, and then suddenly, there she was, probing the opportunity for appealing to Irving for dog cookies. We had a brief reunion with CoCo's person, and then came across one of the original people we had met through the ravine over 30 years ago. She was just a young woman back then, newly married, with a dog she named 'crook' describing the crook in his tail. And then came three children, first two girls, then a son. Her husband rarely walked with her. Once, away back then in the winter, we had seen him zipping through the snowy trails with a snowmobile. There was no repeat.

Back  home once again, Irving took a little snooze. His day had been busy too, starting with mowing the back lawn after breakfast, then doing the house vacuuming while I dusted, and then washed the floors.

Jackie and Jillie were beyond puzzled; no salad as usual for them on our return from the forest trails. Habit is hard to change, but their earlier-than-usual salad before we had set out for our hike, nixed them for a salad after the hike. They finally gave up in disappointed resignation, and snuggled up to Irving for a group nap.

Friday was my birthday. I'm now officially 87. My younger sister reached 83 two days earlier. We always have a lot to talk about. Mostly reminiscing, recalling things of the past. Her memory worries her, it has become elusive. She suffers from a multitude of ills; sciatica is a particular issue since she's always in pain with it, making it difficult for her to walk, but she has lung issues as well. She doesn't get out at all anymore. My brother-in-law has gradually taken over all the tasks involved in daily life, from preparing meals to cleaning their condo, to doing all the shopping. Until a few years ago she was still going out dancing -- a recreational passion with her. Old age hasn't been kind to her.

For me, it's another birthday. Irving always tries to make it special, but really, it's just another day. I cautioned him not to buy anything for me, but he never listens. I now have another two gold bracelets; my wrists jingle with them. Another several months before he catches up with me. The weather certainly didn't reflect a special day. It was heavily overcast, dark and gloomy and the rain was constant. So on that 'special' day we couldn't even take Jackie and Jillie out for their daily hike through the forest.

Still, I made use of the day and baked a pumpkin pie, one of Irving's most favourite desserts. And we had breaded chicken breast cutlets, tiny roasted fingerling potatoes and steamed cauliflower after our chicken-noodle soup, for that 'special' dinner. So special it was no different than any other dinner, other than that we enjoyed it just as much as all the others, and were comfortable and pleased with the day as is usual.

This morning after breakfast I set about cutting up a pineapple. It was ripe; before I buy a pineapple I always test it for ripeness by yanking at one of the innermost spears; if it detaches readily, the fruit is ripe. But even so, I struggled to cut it into quarters so I could detach the flesh from the outer shell. I'd never come across another pineapple as difficult to cut as this one. Finally, I had to ask Irving to help and he made quick work of it, but not without exerting himself in the process. 

Although the weather forecast was for a semi-sunny day, but for an absence of rain we had yet another in a too-long series of heavily overcast skies and darkness prevailing. Happily, there was no wind, and even better, no rain. And the fact that the  temperature had descended from yesterday's 7C to today's -1C was another bonus. It meant that the trails through the forest, thanks to copious rain would be frozen solid.

When we did go out with Jackie and Jillie for our usual afternoon circuit, unsurprisingly, there were areas of the forest still holding leftover bits of snow and ice. And some of the trails remained icy; the reason we wore our spikes. All these changes encouraged people who regularly take walks through the forest from within the wider community to come out with their companion dogs today.

Which meant that our circuit was well punctuated with the arrival at various times, of cookie-seeking friends of Jackie and Jillie. Invariably they're so well-behaved, their eyes speaking volumes of their expectations. It's just such a delight to see them. 

We tend, sensibly, to consider our daily menus from the perspective of the seasons. Lighter fare in hot weather, and during the deeply cold days of winter meals a bit on the more robust end of cuisine. So yesterday's spaghetti and meatballs along with green beans pleased our taste buds and stoked our energy furnace nicely. Into the tomato sauce went thinly sliced leeks, garlic cloves in olive oil, chopped tomatoes and bell peppers and enoki mushrooms. They give some needed heft to the tomato sauce and a little bit of hot pepper flakes provided some extra spice of dietary heat. Brimming with vitamin C.

 

 

Irving tends to be far more judiciously moderate about his food intake than I am. But he overate last night and decided to forego eggs for breakfast this morning. Not as penance, but because after last night's repast he just wasn't very hungry this morning. A morning when he had resolved to clear the snow off the metal canopy of the deck's covering. The product manufacturer cautions that when over six inches of snow accumulates it's best to clear the snow off the canopy to avoid risking a collapse.

There's been so many snowfalls in the past several weeks, we just let the snow pile up. We were busy shovelling it elsewhere, day after day. The accumulation on the canopy by the last of a number of snowstorms was considerable, at least over a foot in depth. Bearing in mind that we'd also had freezing rain events between the snowfalls, adding to the weight of the snow.

 

We both agreed Irving should try to clear the canopy without the use of a ladder, this time. Balance on top of a latter while wielding a clumsy ten-foot long roof rake that can extend twice that length to unburden a surface from layers of snow and ice is tetchy and potentially dangerous work. So, rake extended to about a 20-ft. reach, Irving manipulated the awkward contraption as best he could standing variously on the ground beneath the deck and alternatively on the deck to reach two of the sides of the four-sided canopy.

 

After an hour of work the job was creditably done, and the snow that once crowned the canopy then had to be shovelled off the deck floor and the pathways below the deck, and, thank heavens, what we had both dreaded, was done. Now, more snow can fall and we won't worry about the accumulated depth and the possibility of a collapse.

It's been a relatively mild day, hovering just above freezing but an assertively icy wind made it seem much colder. Walking up the street to reach the ravine entrance the wind whipped a light snowfall directly into our faces. Once we were in the forest interior  the wind at ground level was reduced, and we could hear it roaring above, the tree canopy swaying, tree masts clacking together with the force of the wind.

 

The creek that yesterday had reached the point of freezing over, was now free again. Tomorrow may be another picture altogether. Environment Canada warned of a flash freeze with temperatures plunging to give us a daytime low of -30C, but adjusted for the wind, it would seem more like -40C. Now that is extraordinarily cold even by Ottawa standards. And if that really is what we'll be facing tomorrow, it's doubtful that we'll want to take Jackie and Jillie out in such weather conditions.

It wasn't particularly early this morning when we finally arose from our comfortable bed, but it was very dark. Dark as in either the night hours or a raging storm outside under a bleak, black sky. It was, of course, the latter. Which explains in part our reluctance to emerge from sleep to greet the day, since the day's greeting wasn't particularly enthusing. Another night of rain. On an already well-doused landscape. What was a little different about this weather system was that in the early morning a surly thunderstorm broke the silence. Thunder claps right over the house, no less. And a sudden, brief flash of illuminating light from corresponding lightning flashing through the bedroom.

 

And not only arousing all of us, but sending Jackie and Jillie into a barking fury. Breakfast was eaten in comfortable darkness outside and warm and dry conditions for us. There was a sense of ease, no need to hurry, just take our time, since it seemed unlikely we would be given the opportunity to take Jackie and Jillie out for their usual tramp through the ravine today.

They too lounged about comfortably, and one wonders if they connect weather conditions directly with their chances to get out into the forest. They just seem to take everything as it comes. By early afternoon they were clearly anxious. Drooping with disappointed expectation on the loveseat in our bedroom. They had a hangdog look about them as I viewed them seated dejectedly in the upstairs hallway behind the balcony balustrade, as though behind prison bars.

 

But the rain stopped even though it remained darkly overcast and a glance at the sky told us rain was only on hold, not finished for the day by any means. Still, we went downstairs to visit with Irving in his workshop and suggested a brief hike through the main trail of the forest, and he agreed. We hurriedly put on rain gear and off we went.

 

 

Well before we reached the valley bottom of the ravine we could hear the creek churning and thrashing down below, full of the rain that had fallen, coursing downstream, carrying fallen leaves and light twigs on its way. Its width had grown impressively, and it seemed deeper and wider than it does during spring runoff. The trails underfoot were deep in slosh from an overabundance of rain. The leaf mass remaining on the trees shed droplets of rain, but the rain had stopped, however temporarily.

 

 

At our feet the fallen colourful foliage scintillated in their heavy varnish of rain. Uphill and downhill clambers called for careful negotiation, but unlike the woman we'd come across yesterday who'd slipped  and fallen, we were in no danger of doing likewise. There were scant few other people out but we did meet up with one of our trekking friends and he was in a funk of a mood. Usually we stop briefly to chat then move on, he at a much faster pace than we muster. Today he stayed with us for the duration of our tramp that turned out much longer than we had intended.

 

 

He needed to ventilate, he was taut with anger and his anger went beyond a mid-life crisis. He had suffered poor health caused by a number of conditions but finally he was over all that. A man of action who sought out tense situations by profession from a long career as a special-action forces policing agent, he was given to athletics of the most extreme kind. Now that he is older and feeling much better than he had in a decade, he yearned for adventure and certainly not a sedentary life in a city. His wife has decided life in the city is just what she needs and the tension between what each of them foresees for their future together is mounting.

 

 

We listened, commented when we felt it might be useful, gave no recommendations on a course of action that would satisfy each of them from the height of our age and experience, but hope that anything we might have said would be useful, give him pause for thought and reduce his resentment toward a partner who had shared that life with him for forty years.

 

Rain did come down, heavily as the sky heaved itself into a darker mood, but by then we had returned home. I gave Jackie and Jillie their little fresh vegetable salads, and put on a harvest soup for dinner for us.

Still