Countries in the northern hemisphere are, by definition' 'winter countries'. Our winters are long and invariably snowbound and extremely cold. We're in the depth of winter here now, in the Ottawa Valley, so it's expected that we'll have a series of -20C night time temperatures. It wasn't unusual for us in the near past to have a succession of daytime lows of -20C, and that's cold. 

Ameliorated only slightly when the wind is absent and the sun is out. Ah, the sun; clear skies most often translate to very icy days. On the other hand, even the winter sun casts a wan warmth on the landscape below. Last night the temperature plunged to -20, but when we went out for our afternoon walk today it had edged up to -13C.

Well, today is Friday, my habitual baking day. While Irving disappeared into the bowels of the house where his workshop is located after he helped me clear up breakfast dishes -- he wipes I wash -- and then did the house vacuuming, I was busy as usual in the kitchen. My mental repertoire of baked goods led me to decide to bake Madeleines. They're actually coconut cupcakes, light and fluffy. But instead of smoothing an icing over the tops as I do for most other types of cupcakes, these are dipped in raspberry jam and then coconut.

It's a very nice partnership; the raspberry jam offers a tangy-sweet punch and the coconut satisfies our taste buds with their flavour and texture. When our children were small, all kinds of cupcakes delighted them. Their reaction always prompted me to find different kinds of little cakes, from those stuffed with dried fruit to others containing entire grated oranges or apples and nuts. My experimenting and their reactions was always a lot of fun to me.

When we set off for the ravine with Jackie and Jillie, another habitual routine was in exhibition. As we walk  up the street with the pups on leash, Jillie emits sharp, short little high-pitched barks intermittently until we reach the ravine entrance. Her way of stating she's here, and watch out everyone. Once we enter the forest if she detects the presence of any of her friends wherever they may happen to be another series of barks ensues; once again telling the world that she's there and we are too, especially the Cookie Man.

This icy day, not many were out on the trails. Our faces froze, and we loped along in our version of an energetic, body-warming tramp through the trails. Despite which I could feel the cold penetrating through the three layers of sweaters under my down-filled jacket. We congratulated ourselves that there was no wind, since that would have given us a much more brutally-penetrating cold to contend with.

Although the puppies were wearing their boots, at one point Jackie began lifting one of his back legs, as he hopped along, a signal that the cold was giving him some discomfort. This was a circuit we took in record time; exiting the ravine, a quick stop at the group mailbox, then a quick-march down the street to our house, warm and comforting and redolent with the flavour of a simmering dinnertime chicken soup.

 

We're stuck in another ritual this winter. In the morning putting out peanuts and buttered, cubed toast. In the afternoon or early evening out comes the carrots. We've only seen the black squirrels coming around lately. Red squirrels, we believe store up food for winter more efficiently and tend to semi-hibernate in their nests, and grey squirrels are fewer in number though last winter when we fed them on the porch, not the back stoop, we would see them all gathering as for a winter picnic.

 

Every evening the little rabbit makes its entrance. Usually spending more time at the side door where broken-up carrots are left, but on occasion venturing out to the front porch as though in memory of last year's abundance. Irving is no longer acquiring 50-lb bags of peanuts. Ergo, we have fewer takers coming around. While the temperature was dropping into hitherto  unforeseen depths of cold, we just cannot imagine how these little warm-blooded creatures manage to endure that level of frigidity.

 

Breaking records for extreme weather conditions is fine and good when you hear about it, not so wonderful when you experience it in living colour. It wasn't so awful, missing two consecutive days of traipsing through the snowy woods. Truth is, Jackie and Jillie didn't mind at all, but they were  happy to be back out there this afternoon. And so were we.

 

At the morning's rise in temperature from its overnight -20C to  -17C, it just kept steadily rising. Mind, there's a big difference from last night's -20C and the low of the previous nights of -30C, with  howling winds placing us in the range of -43C windchill. So we waited out the morning, welcomed afternoon, and finally when the temperature sat at a relatively balmy -10C, off we went for our hike.

 

In our absence for those several days when to venture out would risk frostbite, a light amount of new  snow had fallen overnight, and the winds of the days previous had brought down an unsurprising amount of detritus from the forest canopy. Jackie and Jillie were delighted with the seductive selection of narrow little twigs perfect for chewing.

 

Unsurprisingly, a thick layer of ice now caps the creek running through the ravine. While we were out on the trails snow began falling gently, creating a glittering veil of white and dimming the clarity of the landscape. As it falls over the frozen creek, the snow will serve to insulate the creek against the ice melting as the atmosphere becomes milder.