You've heard it before, I'm sure, in a variety of contexts: "It ain't over 'till it's over". And nowhere is that more true than winter, here in Ottawa. Spring has officially arrived, of course. And the snowpack that usually gathers in Ottawa on lawns and thoroughfares and urban forests has done some serious melting. I was trying to persuade Irving that he no longer has to put out carrots and peanuts and torn-up bread with peanut butter for the local wildlife, but he's not convinced. And so he bought another huge bag of peanuts from Ritchie's Feed & Seed, and more carrots.

Yesterday, while I was washing the floor in the foyer because it was cleaning day, and I was down on all fours, so was a little rabbit ,only he was munching a carrot on the other side of the glassed front door. He's so accustomed to being around and rabbiting away that he was undisturbed by my presence, as much as I was charmed by his. A larger rabbit that also comes around frequently is far less trusting.

When we took Jackie and Jillie to the ravine for our usual daily hike through the forest trails yesterday afternoon, most of the snow had melted on the hillsides, the snowmelt trickled into the creek and it was rushing imperiously downstream, at the height of spring run-off. The forest looked drab and dreary, all dark colours, the only hint of the monochromatic green to come, that of the conifers, outnumbered by the naked branches of deciduous trees.

Last night, comfortable in bed, I awoke at around 4:00 a.m. and lifted an eyelid, then both, when I realized there was no moon to be seen, despite yesterday's balmy 6C, and full sun. Instead, what caught my attention was the aluminum glare of a snowy sky, and a heavy burden of snow weighing down the cedar hedge behind us, and the branches of trees further off in the distance. Dismayed? Not one bit. I felt a surge of comfort and anticipation wash over me, and quickly fell back to sleep.

Mind, all that snow meant getting up before breakfast to shovel out pathways for Jackie and Jillie in the backyard. I had earlier, around six o'clock ,let Jackie out the back when I heard him woofing downstairs to go out. He was out quite awhile, and when he entered the  house to leap onto the settle covered with towels he was a little snowdog. As soon as I wiped him down he sped back upstairs to bed, and I did the same. So the shovelling was done and the pups went out to do their business. And the snow just kept coming.

Official figures haven't yet eventuated for the early-spring snowfall, but I would guess about 20cm at least. And snow kept coming steadily down until early afternoon. The temperature high for the day stood at -5C, with a 35-km/hr wind. When we did venture out to the ravine later in the day we knew enough from a previous experience and the fact that the bottoms of our boots kept clotting with packed snow while shovelling, to leave our cleats behind and just set out with winter boots. 

What a transformation. April 8, it may be, but it's a winter wonderland again in the forest. We watched as robins kept swooping down to the creek; some had been newly returned on their reverse spring migration from southern climes, but some among them had spent the winter in this region. The ducks that we saw yesterday in the creek were nowhere to be seen.

And Jackie and Jillie were beside themselves with  joy at the snow's return. They ran back and forth, hither and yon, their little booted paws making deep impressions in the snow, their expressions sheer happiness. Branches were fully festooned with thick layers of snow. From time to time the wind lifted snow from branches to create a wispy waterfall of light snow.

Lifting our heads and looking above, we could see the sun, bright behind a curtain of luminous clouds, trying to break through. We had a wonderful trek through the trails, the captivating winter landscape utterly breathtaking. Mind, it felt cold, and colder yet with the force of the wind, but the beauty surrounding us was priceless. 

Quite a winter we've had so far. Nature has been throwing a mixed bag of winter goodies at  us. Last week  the average temperature ranged around -6C to -12C, and with the incessant wind -- occasionally moderate, but now and then whipping through the atmosphere, our daily hikes through the ravine have been extremely cold. 

Added to which has been the two snowfalls, mere days apart, that together brought us up to our average snowfall for the date, which usually falls gradually to the accumulation we see now. Those two storms added 70 cm of snow on top of what had already fallen previously. The snowpack on the street alongside people's driveways is considerable, lawns are under three to five feet of snow.

 

 

So yesterday and today we had a break. Wind, to be sure, but temperatures rose to 3 and 5C; one day sunny, the next overcast. I set aside my snug Icelandic winter cap and double mittens for lighter coverings.
We still dressed Jackie and Jillie in their warmest winter jackets and little boots, but we felt significantly more comfortable, given the warming  trend. We're not so foolish to think that it will continue, but we'll enjoy it while it lasts.

 

 

Yesterday too, for the second time on the weekend, we saw a pair of Mallards in the creek.  That was a surprise. We usually see returned Mallards along with at least one Great Blue Heron in the spring. We're nowhere near there yet. There were also flocks of robins, swooping down to the creek and then back up again graceful arcs toward the overhanging trees. A week ago we saw a family of three Pileated woodpeckers.  

For our hike today we were accompanied by our youngest child. Some young child; he's now 62 years of age. As a biologist, apart from being our son, it's always such a pleasure being with him on our hikes, as he points out things we're less likely to notice, much less interpret. He won't stay with us this trip as long as his ten days in December/January. It's just that he had a conference in Hamilton and stretched his stay another week for us.

 

 

Today's hike took place in the expectation that it might rain while we were out. Lucky us, the rain held off. The forest trails are in fairly good shape now, well trodden down from use since the last of the snowstorms, to form a fairly solid base underfoot. Still, the trails apart from the main trail, tend to be narrow and choppy, just a bit of a challenge on our ascents and descents of the hillsides. 

When we had completed our circuit for the day, Jackie and Jillie leading the way, we stopped briefly adjacent the forest creek, wondering if the ducks were still in residence there. Thinking about what they could be getting to eat, likely algae and minuscule aquatic life that might sustain them. It's possible that this pair and others didn't migrate south this winter. Instead spending their time at places along the Ottawa River, which the ravine creek feeds into.

 

 

First order of business on our return home is always preparing a little fresh vegetable salad for Jackie and Jillie. In anticipation of their after-hike treat, they rip through the house after one another, sliding on substantial scatter rugs, nipping at one another, excited beyond measure at the prospect of wolfing down their favourite treat. 

 

That done, I decided to bake a small batch of chocolate chip cookies. While I was in the process I thought why not make them chocolate-chocolate-chip cookies, so I did. I had the oven on anyway, to roast a pair of Cornish game hens for dinner, and it took no time at all. 

 

On top of the 25cm of snow that fell on Monday, and which we managed to clear up for the most part, we were met with another 5cm yesterday which we didn't manage to clear up, figuring it was just a few inches and clearing it away could wait. It waited for today, when Irving went out to do just that. No sense firing up the snow thrower, so shovelling did the trick. The weather wasn't quite pleasant, in that it was -12C, with a brisk wind, and even shovelling didn't compensate for the wind tearing into bare faces, despite the energy being expended.

 

With that level of cold, we decided to butter up a few slices of bread, cut them into squares and put them out at the side door, along with peanuts. It's not only the neighbourhood squirrels and rabbits that have learned to come around regularly, now repeated visits by crows make quick work of whatever's put out, as well. Deposits made three times daily.

 

 

As for us, I most often decide the night before or early the next morning what our menu for the day will be. Sometimes it seems more vexingly troublesome to think of what to prepare for dinner than the actual preparation, which is a pleasure by comparison. On Monday we had a roasted Cornish hen accompanied by green beans, a noodle pudding and plums for dessert. We usually alternate between dairy and meat meals, so searching my memory files for recipes yesterday I realized I hadn't made a French onion soup in a while. A fresh garden salad went well with the soup, with raspberries for dessert.

 

It's a meal that doesn't take long to put together; basically preparing the onion soup itself, but earlier in the day toasting croutons with butter, garlic powder and Parmesan cheese to complement the old Cheddar I invariably use with these soups. We'd gone out to do the food shopping earlier in the day and even driving to the supermarket after our ravine hike felt like an Everest-type adventure. We're in a cold snap. This time, at least, unlike last week, we were able to manoeuvre the shopping cart over to our car in the parking lot.

 

If anything reflects comfort on the dinner table on cold and windy days it's any kind of soup.  Last night the temperature fell to -16C, and it'll go even lower tonight. But tonight there'll be a meat pie. What I think of as an entire meal in a casserole type of thing. Along with the ground beef in the pie filling there's also chopped garlic and onion, mushrooms and green peas. So other than fresh, sliced Bosc pears for dessert, that's the meal. Oh, and Irving asked for extra gravy to go with the pie.

 

 

It was colder temperature-wise when we went out with Jackie and Jillie to the ravine this afternoon, but since the wind had died down by then, we managed fine, though we had almost convinced ourselves that anything colder than -10C would be a good enough reason, allied with a whipping wind, to miss our daily hike through the forest. So far this winter we haven't had any daytime highs of -20C, but I'm sure they're yet to arrive.

 

Jackie and Jillie had a good time as usual, coming across some of their friends, and catching up with the neighbourhood canine gossip. By the time we arrive back home after our forest jaunt, their legs are well encrusted with icy snow. First thing is to remove their boots, then their jackets, then brush the snow off their legs and then they're free to romp through the house in happy anticipation of their routine afternoon salad.

 

   

 

During these winter months Irving puts out peanuts and bread cubes several times a day at our side door stoop. Squirrels and crows and other wildlife come along and help themselves. Last night when he was preparing to put out the last batch, he hesitated before opening the door because he saw the dim figure of a little tawny rabbit sitting in front of the steps. He called me over and we looked at the little creature just resting there, and both of  us wondered how such a small animal could fare during these harsh winter conditions. He's a little visitor we've become familiar with over past winters.

 

We knew a major storm was on its way, predicted to begin overnight and leave a sizeable amount of snow. And that's just what occurred. When that happens Irving often gets out of bed early and shovels the deck, stairs and a narrow passageway in the backyard for Jackie and Jillie, then gets back in bed to snooze until we finally both wake. I didn't hear him get up, get dressed and go downstairs. I had prepared myself in my mind to get dressed and do some early basic shovelling for the same reason, but he beat me to it.

 

 

About a foot of snow had fallen overnight, the result was an uneven, swooping snowpack because the storm had been accompanied by high winds. I thought we wouldn't be able to get out to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie because of the amount of snow down, but Irving insisted we get out and take our time stomping through the snow. Decades ago we'd be the only ones going out after a snowstorm and we'd have to break trail. Ever since COVID, people in the larger community began to appreciate the ravine and forest, and now people come out regularly through the trails.

 

 

So we no longer break trail, and are grateful that others do that. We could see that some skiiers had come in early to take advantage of the thick powder. At one time it was snowshoes that were popular. We've never worn snowshoes in the ravine, although years ago we used them regularly in Gatineau Park, the semi-wilderness area in Quebec we so loved when the children were young.

 

Jackie and Jillie found it more difficult making their way up the street to the ravine entrance than right in the forest on the trails. The street hadn't been plowed by the time we got out and it was awkward navigating the deep runnels made by passing traffic. The temperature hovered at freezing, so when we were out that meant there was a slight moisture to the snow. Which made our passage through the trails even more difficult, since with every step our cleated boots picked up great clots of packed snow.

 

Any time we have a snowfall of this magnitude, particularly after an earlier snowfall of some significance, the landscape is a picture of evanescent beauty, frostily ethereal. And so it was today.  Although trudging through the depth of snow felt like walking through quicksand, and it was tiring. Jackie and Jillie revelled in it,though they had a practical eye out for avoiding untramped snow in favour of following earlier tracks.

 

When we returned home, we both went out to begin shovelling. First Irving took his telescopic roof rake to the light metal canopy over the deck, to relieve it of most of the burden of accumulated snow as a safeguard against a collapse. And then I did the areas that needed hand shovelling, while Irving took out the snow thrower and set about clearing the walkways in the backyard and at the front of the house. Exhausting work. 

 

 

The wind had returned and made the temperature seem colder so when we were finished, on came the fireplace. The vegetable soup I put on to cook will be warming and appreciated when we have dinner. I baked a batch of whole-wheat cheese and sesame seed rolls to accompany the soup, a nutritious, comforting meal for a winter's evening.

 

We had no opportunity to get out for our daily walk through the forest yesterday which turned out to be a weather-miserable day of relentless rain. Irving did go out to do some shopping. He had in mind looking for new and more reliable cleats to pull over our winter boots for the coming winter season. Our adventure of the day before, when we slipped and slid up and down the various hills in the ravine was a tad too exciting altogether. How we managed to remain erect is a mystery.

 

The pair he bought for my boots have some pretty wicked-looking spikes that make me a little nervous. I'm always careful around Jackie and Jillie when I'm wearing those ice-cleats, and with good reason. Contact with them could result in some very serious injury. In all the years we've been wearing them we haven't had any accidents; we're alert to where our pups are, around our feet.

 

When evening arrived last night the rain ceased and light snow took over for a short while as the temperature dropped. There wasn't much of an accumulation and we assumed because at the highest point in the afternoon when we finally got out with the puppies it was -4C, the trails that were so treacherous two days earlier, would be frozen solid. They were. We could feel just how deeply frost had set in as we entered the path leading to the ravine.

 

Then we realized that the snow that hadn't made much of an impact outside the forest had gathered on top of the thick icy slush we had encountered on Tuesday, adhered to it, and resulted in a fairly thick layer of ice that challenged our ability to remain upright as we descended into the ravine. We weren't really mentally prepared to trip the Light Fantastic again. It hadn't occurred to us we might need those ice cleats so soon.

 

Well, of course, it wasn't the entire network of forest trails that were steeped in ice. We took our time, chose an alternate, safer route, and managed to remain in charge of our well-being. The temperature was just on the cusp of the puppies needing their winter rubber boots. They faced no inconvenience in negotiating the trails; it's where bipedalism is trumped by four agile legs.

Earlier in the day I was busy in the kitchen. As usual, I'd asked Irving what he'd like for a dessert for this evening. And wasn't I surprised; he actually came up with a suggestion. He'd seen gingerbread cakes advertised at one of his favourite haunts. So gingerbread it would be. Most gingerbread recipes use a combination of baking soda and boiling water in the cake batter. Since I really heartily dislike baking soda in cakes, I thought I could do better.

So I increased the butter content, used yellow instead of dark brown sugar because last time we were shopping they were out of the latter. Instead of baking soda, I used baking powder, along with the ginger, cinnamon, cloves, salt and molasses. Typically, a single egg is used with about a cup and a half of flour. I increased that to two eggs and reduced the flour to one cup. And substituted sour cream for hot water.

I used my countertop convection oven. I had turned it on to warm it to 350F, then popped the batter in its baking dish into the oven and set the timer for 42 minutes. Then I was busy preparing a bread dough, putting on a chicken soup to simmer and preparing chicken breast cutlets for breading. Just before the timer went off I looked at the convection oven and saw what looked like a flat cake. I opened the door and realized what I was looking at was the inert batter, and there was no heat emanating from the oven.

Somehow it had shut itself off. Out came the cake pan and batter. I fiddled with the oven's electrical plug, shoving it deeper into the wall receptacle, and on came the oven. After it heated up properly, back in went the cake. And then it finally baked.

 

Irving enjoys getting a break from the house far more than I do. He becomes restless often and decides to go out for one reason or another. Yesterday he needed to pick up a prescription, and while he was out he did what he most enjoys; shopped. He brought home a zillion-seed bread for the evening's grilled cheese sandwhich to go alongside the vegetable soup simmering on the stove. Two bags of cooking carrots because he ran out of carrots for our visiting wild rabbit. Two bags of navel oranges to join the half-dozen already in the refrigerator, and two containers of nuts; one mixed, one of cashews, my favourite.

 

Oh, and because they were on sale, two long-sleeved sweaters, and three sleeveless summer ones, for me. He thought that would cheer me up because I hadn't been feeling quite myself the past several days. I most certainly felt cheered up. That's so typical of him. Enveloped by a warm feeling of gratitude in thankfulness that you're so valued and cared for is an undeniable cheer-up mechanism.

 

And then, because I hadn't noticed it, he turned my attention to what was happening out-of-doors. We'd had a really pleasant hike through the ravine hours earlier. One of those spring-is-in-the-air type of days, with a mild temperature of 3C, light wind albeit overcast. But when I looked out I saw a howling wind and blizzard conditions, snow flying everywhere. Totally unexpected. But then, the weather is notoriously unpredictable here.

 

The temperature had fallen below freezing by the time we went up to bed, and it was snowing again when Jackie and Jillie last went out. Bare areas on the walkway in front of the porch were once again snow-covered. When we came down first thing this morning, a  howling wind and freezing temperature of -7C greeted us. So I decided to put the sun back into Sunday, cutting up and sectioning two large oranges for breakfast alongside a smiling banana.

 

That must have inspired nature to change her tempestuous mind, for before long out came the sun. The clouds had decamp0ed and the sun rode high and bright in the sky and remained there for the rest of the day. So that when we went out with Jackie and Jillie for our afternoon hike through the ravine, the bare forest canopy allowed the sun at its new angle, to shine right through the forest. It was glorious, despite the lingering chill.

 

Not many people out on the trails; we saw none, in fact. But one of Jackie and Jillie's friends did come by for a visit, responding to Jillie's interminable barking when she senses someone else around. That's the signal for any dogs familiar with us to come running in anticipation of cookie handouts. 

Jackie and Jillie were bundled into their heaviest winter coats and little black rubber boots against the return of icy weather. When we arrived back home they romped and rumbled about everywhere chasing after one another, barking happily in anticipation of their usual vegetable salad treat post-ravine hike. Before we had left the house I put on a lentil-bean vegetable soup to begin cooking in our absence. I had chopped up a celeriac root for a change to put into the soup, and gave them each a slender stick of it. They were puzzled and declined; not their usual fare.

We slept in this morning. Deliberately and luxuriously. We anticipated a busy day, but 'busy' wouldn't begin until early afternoon. So we figured we could use the morning hours to a rest-advantage, and that's just what we did. Jackie and Jillie were in full agreement. More than prepared to abide by us while we all just loafed about in bed. A serene togetherness.

Even when we did eventually stir ourselves there was no hurry. We just toddled along, more or less. Still, there's a schedule to keep and habits steer one into the direction of getting things done. At a slow pace, however. And it was delightful. We had a bang-up meal eating a little more than might be advisable if it were not a cold winter night, and the day had been one of more than ample physical activity. 

Our dinner was more than welcome on a busy, cold day. A dinner that more or less looked after itself. The oven did the roasting, and I did some occasional basting of a Cornish game hen to acquire that dark brown crispy texture and seasoning that permeated under the skin. Which I discard, but Irving enjoys. The noodle pudding that accompanied the hen was a good foil, almost neutral to the hen's toothsome flavours. One doesn't normally think of poultry and raisins accompanying each other on a dinner plate, but sometimes it works very well. We won't mention the necessary green accompaniment. But the slices of fresh pears were a nice finish to the meal.

We lingered after breakfast, then swung into action to prepare ourselves to leave the house. Jackie and Jillie had a  spa appointment to be groomed, and while they were there, we planned to do our weekly grocery shopping. Efficiency, that's the key. 

I had put together a few bags of clothing we were discarding and they were to be delivered to the Salvation Army's thrift shop. We had to pick up a big bag of kibble for the pups. The pharmacy awaited a drop-by. The bank was prepared to welcome us for a cash withdrawal. All this and more. We dropped by Farm Boy after leaving our puppies with the beautiful crew at the spa.

Something odd happens at that store specializing in fruits and vegetables; our eyes light on all the colourful, fresh offerings and we discover we simply cannot do without items we don't normally have access to. Irving loves fresh figs, and there was fresh figs waiting to be picked up. We pounced. I had forgotten what a nuisance it is to peel the damn things.

 From there, after acquiring shopping bags of items we'd normally get at Food Basics, we headed off there, stopping first at the bank and to deliver the clothing bags. We don't normally shop that late in the day, so there were far more people in the supermarket than we're accustomed to. Still, it wasn't crowded, and we had no problem getting everything we needed, and more. This time when I deposited the bag of food we'd selected for the area Food Bank the receptacle was empty but for what we deposited, since it had just all been picked up for distribution.

Approaching the spa on the walkway leading to it, we passed one of the windows and there was Jackie and Jillie barking furiously at us, scrabbling at the window to hurry us up. They smell delicious, they feel like Angora. So we were late getting around to our ravine hustle. We set out at a time closer to when we usually arrive back home after a hike.

This has been a colder day than the past several, and windy. All of us needed to relax and work off some of the steam of the day. So we took our time there, too, ambling about the trails. No need to hurry, we'd done enough hurrying in the middle of the day. The forest landscape looked serene. The creek height is diminished from the last few days. No snow melt today with this icy temperature. This has been a day that earned its keep.

 

 

As snowstorms go, yesterday's was quite the doozy. We're so accustomed to them by this time of year it seems no big deal when a storm arrives in the wee hours of the night, makes itself comfortable and decides to overstay its welcome well into the evening hours of the following day. Mind, it helped that the atmosphere was mild. The last similar snowstorm a week earlier gave us freezing temperatures along with the storm and battering high winds. 

 

 

The clean-up is done, The snow piles a bit higher. Hard to imagine the gardens, but they're sleeping comfortably under all that snow. They've been around awhile too, and know from years of experience that the snow will melt, the frost leave the soil, and the moistened, freshly crumbly growing medium will awaken bulbs and perennials, inviting them to surface for another season of growth and the conceit of showing off.

 

 

It was very thoughtful of Mother Nature to send along the sun today. It sat majestically on its orbiting chariot of fire the entire day, mischievously glaring its invitation to the buoyant comforter below to blind our eyes with the scintillating magic of its illuminating presentation. I'm baking fresh croissants for dinner tonight to accompany a lentil-vegetable soup to create a little internal heat to balance out the equation. Yesterday's went down just fine.

 

In the forest we found few others around, although the tell-tale signs were there that at some point skiers, snowshoers, sledders, dogs and perhaps little family groups were out and about. The widened and flattened trails were testament to the popularity of the ravine frosted high with snow on a winter weekend.

Out on the street, walking back home after our forest foray, snow banks are so wide and  high you cannot see the bottom levels of the houses, only cliffs of snow jutting out beyond driveways. Our backyard is piled high with snow, but the pathways are clear.

 

Our oldest son called last night with an incredible story. Our daughter-in-law had been downtown engaged in volunteer work at a church-run soup kitchen. It's part of her pastoral work and she often takes on the job of preparing the food. It was late when she left to return home. She took the subway, got off where she catches a connecting bus that takes her close to home. At the bus stop people kept arriving, but no buses did. Toronto was also hit by the storm that had gifted us with about 25cm of new snow.

 

Evidently the TTC had decided in its wisdom to cancel the evening buses on that route. It was past midnight when our daughter-in-law decided to walk  home. Once at their condominium building she got on the elevator with her bicycle and couldn't get off. She was finally freed at 3:00a.m. when elevator technicians arrived and worked awhile to get the mechanics in operating order.

Toronto is not now the place we knew when we grew  up there. It has changed in so many ways. But one might expect that the largest, most populous city in Canada would be efficiently administered in service to the great metropolis it has become.