In our 20's Doris and Me

Today is my younger sister's birthday. When I speak with her the first thing she says when I ask how she is, is 'not good'. She's been saying that for many years. Up until eight months ago when her husband died, he looked after every aspect of her life. For the past five years she rarely ventured out of their house. She had a litany of physical problems, from compromised lungs, pain in her legs and back, and a memory that did not serve her well. Our mother had died of complications of frontal lobe dementia, at age 84. My sister ministered to her at a time when she recognized no one else, even her own sister who was housed in the same elder-care institution.

Now my sister is in the very same predicament; a widow, physically and mentally incapacitated, diagnosed with Alzheimers, housed in an institution where amenities for the elderly as well as medical care is available around the clock. Her three children and a grandchild visit when they can, but it is our younger brother, whose hermit personality makes him alienated from society, who visits her the most often. I called to wish her happy 85, and we spoke for a while, but the energy toll that takes is too much of an exertion for her and when she began that deep, moist coughing, we ended our conversation. 

Beyond sobering, a sure-fire way to dampen one's enthusiasm for anything. Granted, a temporary condition for us. My own birthday is four days after my sister's when I 'turn' 89. I have no complaints other than those mostly transitory aches and pains that afflict most people my age. When I wake in the morning and rouse out of bed, it's the physical low point of the day. Once I get moving and involved with everything, those aches and pains leave the premises. My zest for housekeeping, cooking and baking keeps me engrossed in doing both. Since Irving enjoys rice dishes so much, when I prepare a fish meal for dinner, I often do my own version of Paella; colourful and exuberantly zesty with saffron and hot smoked paprika.

Yesterday I baked a maraschino cherry/cream cheese bundt-type cake for dessert. I've turned to baking cakes more frequently lately, leaving behind summer fruit pies and other, lighter pastries for the nonce. Many years ago there was a chocolate maraschino cherry cake I used to bake that was a favourite with our family; this was kind of a take-off of that cake. I really enjoy experimenting with a variety of flavours and ingredients, melding them and savouring the results. Somewhat, I suspect, like a chemist in a laboratory. For me, it's a challenge and enjoyable.

This is turning out to be quite a cold winter; unexpected after the relatively mild fall we'd enjoyed. Even though we've also had intermittent mild spells with rain to wash away much of the winter snowpack that has been building up in the ravine. When we went out for our afternoon hike through the ravine yesterday, the forest trails were well packed with snow from last week's snowstorm, plus the occasional snow events that followed. And it was cold, at -14C, with wind sweeping the snow about, under partially sunny skies.

We still occasionally come across other community hikers who note our missing puppy and ask about her. Irving usually does the explaining, it's just so painful I find myself helpless to stop weeping whenever I think of Jillie's departure from life. Just too sudden and unexpected, leaving us helpless and in grief. Jackie still hasn't fully recovered and possibly never will. He was always sensitive to our going out without them, both of them were particularly prone to separation anxiety, but that has now intensified for Jackie given the circumstances, and so we don't. We haven't left him  on his own for a month and a half. 

When we're out on the forest trails, he now does all the barking that Jillie used to do. There are other behavioral traits of hers that he now assumes as well, oddly enough. He's as curious as always about the outside world of the forest; his intense enjoyment is obvious. His relationship with other dogs is as remote as always. As siblings Jackie and Jillie knew only one another; playmates and confidantes sharing life. Despite that we tried to socialize them early in their puppyhood through contact with other dogs, nothing seemed to work; they remained standoffish. Their interest in other dogs was always problematic; they simply had no interest in socializing, though they did on occasion evince some shallow level of curiosity that was never sustained.

We had some more snow fall overnight. The winds were so high they swept the snow everywhere. In the morning we shovelled out backyard pathways for Jackie. On the newfallen snow we could see rabbit tracks everywhere. When he goes out to the backyard, Jackie follows the tracks, sniffing energetically. Some of them end under the big garden shed. I haven't put any food out in the backyard, depending on the rabbits to come around to the side door or the porch for the carrots and peanuts and peanut-buttered bread squares we put out for our neighbouring wildlife. Occasionally we're lucky enough to see one of them on the porch.

The crows are far more evident, as are black squirrels; we don't see many red or grey squirrels about as we used to. The juncos, cardinals and chickadees come scrounging about as well. Whatever we put out is not left for very long, which explains why we rarely see raccoons on the porch this winter since Irving stopped putting out kibbles.

Today's hike through the ravine saw us out a little longer. It was cold at -6C this afternoon but nowhere near as icy as yesterday. Ice is just beginning to form at the edges of the creek. Already at 3:30 p.m. dusk has entered and in another hour the darkness of the short winter days would make sightlines difficult if it were not for the generous coverlet of snow over the landscape.

 

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.

 

 

Busy day! Didn't even have time to shovel yesterday's snow yet. Not to worry, tomorrow's another day. And another day. And another snowfall. Shovelling is endless. Until and unless we shovel the walkways in the backyard, every time Jackie and Jillie go out they know enough to 'up!'. Meaning they leap up to the settle positioned on a wall close to the sliding glass doors, where a towel has been laid, and two other towels await our use, to wipe the snow off their little paws. They know the routine. If they're wet with rain, up they go to wait patiently until they're wiped down.

We wanted to get out earlier than usual with them today, for their afternoon walk through the forest. So they could get their daily exercise before their appointment at the groomer's. It was such a lovely winter day we decided we'd go a bit further on our circuit to give ourselves and them more time to enjoy the atmosphere. Not much wind, but the temperature had risen to -1C, and the sun was out.

Actually, it was almost blinding, walking up the street to the ravine entrance. We've got snow everywhere packed down tight on the street and sitting high and deep on people's lawns, so the sun glancing off the snow is  just too bright for our eyes. We should've put on sunglasses, but didn't. That's the price we pay for a perfect winter day. Once in the forest, however, it's no longer a problem.

The sun does filter through the canopy, but it's nowhere near as pervasive, and by the time we were halfway through our hike, the sun gave centre stage to clouds and the forest interior reverted to its usual dusky appearance. The top layer of snow from yesterday's all-day snowfall was light enough and sticky enough to cover the puppies' legs. But their paws kept dry, thanks to their booties.

We got home just in time to go off again to their appointment. Where we left them to do the grocery shopping while they were being groomed. We had a number of stops first, pharmacy then bank, then supermarket. Prices appear to have stabilized somewhat. And now that Christmas and New Year's have passed the large container for Food Bank collections is not as stuffed as it's been for weeks, so there was ample room for our bag of donated food staples this time.

We picked up our puppies after admiring how svelte they now appear, and first thing after we hauled all the groceries into the house was preparing their little vegetable salads for their afternoon treat. They were famished, they told us.  Irving trimmed the cauliflower before I put it in the vegetable drawer of the refrigerator and since they're mad for cauliflower he gave them plenty of pieces to munch on.

Then they settled down for a prolonged nap, content themselves in having undergone a strenuous day to that point. And they'd stay that way, luxuriating in slumber, the fireplace blazing, until dinner time. I prepared a casserole of pasta, cheese sauce, pink salmon and green peas, then checked on my email and media account. And it was time for me to join Irving, reading the newspapers.

After preparing and cooking somewhat elaborate meals on weekdays we take a bit of a break on the weekend. In the winter that means cooking soups for winter comfort for weekend meals. A hot piping soup aromatic with vegetables and herbs, or one with an assortment of pulses and herbs in a chicken stock just calls out comfort. On Saturday I bake rolls to go with soup and together with a bit of different types of hard cheeses it makes for a complete meal, with fresh fruit to finish off.

Yesterday's soup was an assortment of dried peas and beans, chopped garlic, leeks and tomato paste and herbs. It's great to  have the fragrance of simmering soup waft through the  house on cold winter days. Yesterday's greeted us as we returned from a very late afternoon trek through the woods. And this time the soup was complemented with grilled cheese sandwiches.

 It's become a bit reckless to enter the forest without good cleats for gripping on the trails that have become extremely icy over the past several weeks. That's the result of much milder than usual temperatures day after day along with rain, instead of snow. The end result is the snowpack having melted and leaving behind solidly frozen trails where ascending and descending hillsides becomes treacherous. Irving had bought new cleats for both of us, updated and better designed, only his just weren't as good as those he bought for me. Even with his new cleats on he was unable to get a good purchase on the ice. 

So Saturday morning he braved the frantic shopping crushes and found a pair of cleats in his size that had the gripping features of mine, and wearing them made a world of difference. Each step on the ice produces a firmly reassuring clip as the teeth on the cleats dug into the ice. Which meant we're both now equipped with heavy-duty icers and we can relax, the tension evaporates and we climb or descend the hills with confidence.

 

We were out much earlier today. Yesterday's ravine circuit took place mostly in the dark; fortunately there was enough snow left on the forest floor to emit light and we're so familiar with the forest and its trails, darkness doesn't present much of a problem since the lights from the city tend of bounce off clouds and reflect down on the forest.

 

Although we enjoyed mild temperatures just above freezing, a heavily clouded sky meant that the forest interior was dark, even at noon. But we had an enjoyable trek through one of our circuits, and a fair number of dogs familiar with the cookie man ran happily at us through the course of the circuit, as their people waited patiently on other trails from where their pets had left to find us after hearing Jillie's incessant barking invitations.

 

There's a bit of spring magic in the air. Not always -- we're still early in the winter month of March --  but on these days of milder temperatures and full sun the atmosphere is wholly suggestive of spring. We can see the snowpack shrinking. And that's an odd thing. When we mention the height of the snowpack just in passing, to ravine acquaintances they seem startled and begin to look around as though to acquaint themselves with something they hadn't before noticed. We can feel the difference and we can see the difference in the height of the snowpack bringing us to a level that is attained only in late winter.

 

 

It's obvious when we're standing on one of the bridges fording the creek (Bilberry Creek specifically), that snow, tamped down hard from a long succession of snowfalls and peoples' boots, is roughly two to three feet in depth on he bridge floorboards. It's obvious when we look at the sideboard rails of the bridge that many of them are buried deep in snow. The top rail is actually of a height that equals my own, it's just short of five feet in height normally. To look over into the creek from the bridge I have to left myself on my toes.

 

 

Now, on the other hand, I have several feet of free sight. There are landmark trees that stand out for one reason or another and now, hiking the trails, we can readily discern that we're standing a lot taller on the accumulated height of ice and snow. It will take a while for the snow to melt. And it won't be doing that really seriously for another few weeks. By the first of April there will still be ample snow left in the forest. But it's a start toward spring and the renewal of everything green.

 

 

When we were out in the ravine today we found a light slick of ice had formed over the snow. Tissue-thin, and a little slippery. The result of emerging warmer days and still-freezing nights. Soon, sap will begin rising from the tree roots. For the most part however, the storm that left us with another 25 cm two days ago has added a top layer, but on it, the warmer temperatures are having their effect; a pattern is forming of small softly rounded dimples everywhere. The snowpack is beginning to denaturize.

 

At this point, the landscape still looks almost pristine and certainly enchanting. Before long it will look anything but; grimy and dishevelled, nastily untidy with litter of all kinds. That's when we have to step carefully in avoidance of unsavoury spots here and there. We're not there, yet. So a nice, relaxed hike was in order for this afternoon.

 

 

I popped a still-frozen, well-seasoned Cornish hen into the oven before we left. We were late, thanks to Monday house-cleaning. Seems we were just as late Sunday, when I put a lentil-vegetable soup on to simmer and on our return back home, rolled out dough for fresh rolls to accompany the soup. Same thing today, I'm preparing to bake an egg-noodle/raisin pudding to accompany the hen, along with broccoli and sliced fresh pears and plums for dessert.

It's interesting  how your thoughts can go off on a tangent at times. A casual glance at my face in the bathroom mirror while I was cleaning it this morning, and I noted how angular my face looks now, long and narrow when I always thought it was more of a wide oval, and the prominence of my nose struck me. Was it always like this? A factor of growing old?

That led me to recall my sister-in-law, a really consciously-stylish woman, like her father, once underwent rhinoplasty in the hope of diminishing the appearance of her nose. I never thought it dominated her face, but I was curious to see the end result, and in fact I saw very little difference. I kept remembering, how much our interests and concerns differed, hers and mine. She seemed consumed by appearance over all, and though it mattered to me, I felt it to be superficial as a concern in comparison to things that really took my notice.

Then I remembered, for some odd reason, that I had not been invited to her wedding. Which was strange, since I had been invited to her bridal shower. There was a few years between us, but even two to three years placed us on a different social level. I was also slightly less than gregarious, while she was an extrovert. Memories can get convoluted; I had dated the younger brother of the man my sister-in-law married.

I found him to put it mildly nauseating. Soon afterward I hosted a party at my patents' house for my 14th birthday. I had invited that boy and he brought along another boy, a friend of his, who just happened to be the man I've been married to for almost 68 years. When my sister-in-law married her boyfriend, a really lovely fellow, quite different from his brother, her mother-in-law lavished her with all manner of expensive household appliances, and financed the creation of a trendy little shop for them as proprietors.

I recalled, as my thoughts kept unfolding, how this woman approached me soon after my sister-in-law's marriage, asking why I had stopped seeing her son -- as though I had ever devoted any time to him to begin with -- telling me she was prepared to do for me and her  younger son what she had done for her older son and his wife. I was only fifteen years old at the time, but I felt pressured and offended after explaining to her that I had a steady and prolonged interest in the companionship of the boy destined to be my lifelong partner.

What dredges up these old memories?

Well, today has been a typical winter day; some sun along with cloudy intervals, no wind, no snow for a change, and an afternoon high temperature of -10C. It was already three in the afternoon and dusk wouldn't be long in falling when we set off with Jackie and Jillie for our afternoon ravine hike. Getting in to the ravine presents a little initial problem with the pile-up of accumulated snow clogging the entrance to the ravine trails. It requires balance, a good heave upward at a tight angle to gain the footing required to access the trail. We manage, but it's a potentially good way to seriously twist an ankle.

Almost immediately we accessed the downward trail to the ravine through the forest interior we were visited by a number of dogs. It's Jillie's barking that alerts them to our presence. Or, more precisely, Irving, the Cookie Man's presence. At a distance I often see the fleeting figures of dogs taking shortcuts off trail, speeding uphill or down, leaving their humans behind in their anxiety not to miss an opportunity to scarf cookies.

The snowbound wonderland with the forest trees garlanded with heaps of snow that greets the eye at every turn is quite the aesthetic draw. But the cold, crisp air is yet another compelling reason, along with the opportunity to stride along in this kind of pristine winterscape that draws people to venture out on cold days to feel the exhilaration that exposure to nature invariably treats the eye, the mind and the body to.

 

Now that the light ambience in our family room has been improved, Irving is busy doing the same with our bedroom. For the past fifty years or so home-builders have bypassed quite a few things we take for granted; no longer does the electrical work in a house include a central ceiling fixture. There was no such lapse when we bought our first little semi-detached bungalow in Richmond Hill north of Toronto in 1957 for $11,500 although despite houses then being built wrap-around brick, not just as a facade, the building code back then didn't include adequately weather-proofing homes as it does now. I can remember seeing frost high up on the inner bedroom walls under the ceiling in winter.

Yesterday, Irving installed the roundel anchoring the new light fixture he'll be putting together like a jigsaw puzzle. The scaffolding under the roundel is hung, and now the patience to put all the bits and pieces in place will be the next challenge. A ceiling fixture will go far in our bedroom to offer more light than the current three table lamps provide.

Outside the house it's a quite a bit brighter now, too. It was still sere and grey looking as we came downstairs for breakfast this morning, and then suddenly all those white clouds let loose and snow began descending in great rapid fluffs. The snowsquall didn't last long but it did leave an impressive amount of snow for such a short spurt of heavenly activity. I shovelled the pathways in the backyard for the first time this season. Not the least bit difficult since the four inches were pure, light fluff.

Irving removed all the summer mats we have down at the house entrances and replaced them with the winter-weight-and-sized alternatives. And he dug up our winter boots that we will exchange for our hiking boots. 

Jackie and Jillie whipped about the backyard in a frenzy of discovery, the snow spraying out in all directions under their prancing little paws. Of course when they re-entered the house the snow was stuck halfway up their scrawny little legs, so a good run-down was needed before they embarked on yet another mad rush-about in the house.

We were surprised at the depth of the snow in the driveway. Not quite enough for the snow removal crew to come along and tractor it all out. Irving just swept the porch of snow, so he could put out more peanuts for the squirrels. We decided, at -5C, with no wind, that we could gamble Jackie and Jillie could weather the cold-plus-fresh-snow without boots today. That's just on the cusp of what their tiny paws can take without discomfort.

The sun was emerging behind the clouds by the time we all got dressed and prepared to leave for the ravine. Halfway through the trails this afternoon we realized there was more blue sky than cloud and the sun had fully emerged. Traction was good on the trails, others had been out before us, breaking trail. There were skiers and bicyclists, and hikers out at some earlier point, to tamp the snow down nicely. We experienced no difficulty either in ascending or descending the hills.

Occasionally, toward the end of our circuit, Jackie and Jillie lifted a leg, and we removed iceballs that had built under their paws, then they carried on without problems. Not many people were out when we were, and we had no trouble imagining a frenzy of Christmas shopping at all the malls. The forest was a peaceful cathedral of snow-slathered trees, the canopy well draped in a glitter of soft white opacity.