After a grateful number of moderating temperature days so far in this new year, we've been plunged once again into an icy spell. Cold enough that it takes resolve to get out there for our  usual ravine walks with our little dogs. Wind, which had accompanied the colder temperatures, made for some pretty miserable episodes in the past few days, but yesterday, though the temperature nudged up to minus 7.9 degrees, there was barely discernible wind, and so our trek through the forest was more pleasant.

I've taken to wearing thin insulating gloves under my mitts for warmth, and so that I can remove the mitts and still have some protection on my hands from the cold. Even so, yesterday the digits of both hands became extremely cold edging toward painful. But the impulse to take photographs of the scenes before us compels me to leave myself vulnerable to the discomfort, so it's of my own making that I end up with frozen fingers.

We've also been fortunate that we haven't yet had to put Muttluks on Jackie and Jillie. Despite the frigid temperatures they've seemed oblivious to the cold on their little pads, never pausing or hesitating to go on through the trails, making numerous side-trips to satisfy their curiosity, through the trees off-trail.

The snow on  the forest floor has acquired a bit of stiffness and a nice crust, thanks to alternating days of snow, rain and freezing rain. So when they venture off trail onto the much elevated snowpack, they don't sink into the snow at all, as we with our immeasurably greater weight, would. We see few people out now in this numbing cold. Which isn't surprising. Although people who have companion dogs likely get out throughout the day at times other than when we're in there.

Today the temperature will struggle to get above minus-11 degrees, and with the wind chill factored in, it will seem like minus-25 degrees. Still Jackie and Jillie are happy because the sun is out sailing across a clear blue sky, and they agitate to be out on the deck for brief periods where they wrestle happily with one another, the sun temporarily warming them through their black hair, until the cold penetrates sufficiently to persuade them to re-enter the house.

Although we've been long parted with our children, even after all these years every fresh parting requires an adjustment on our part. Particularly when it entails a visit from our youngest. Suddenly, when he leaves to return to his own home, geographically distant from our own, the house is too quiet and we feel bereft of his presence. Of our three children, he remains the closest emotionally to us.

It was always with him that we seemed to spend the most time as we all grew older. For one thing we shared a sense of outdoor adventure with him. We introduced all our children at an early age to the natural world surrounding us, to ensure they gained a natural appreciation for the flora and fauna that share our world, and to respond to the inherent inclination most people simply ignore, to delve into that world from time to time, just as a reminder that we are an integral part of it.

They all, our children, veered off in different directions, our oldest boy cultivating a deep interest in astronomy which he maintained even while he became academically involved in history. Our middle child eventually became engrossed in the welfare of animals, while our youngest attained a doctorate in biology. All three are extremely conscious of the environment in which we live and thrive and which we too often take for granted.

It was with our youngest son that we, his father and mother, explored the natural world more deeply than we had ever imagined we would, under his guidance. We shared with him exploratory adventures that challenged our physical endurance and granted us experiences that have lasted our lifetime. He is now approaching his mid-50s, but still our youngest 'child'.

When he visits with us, it is as though a familiar, refreshing breeze has wafted through our home and our consciousness. We value his presence, his irrepressible spirit, his curiosity, his logical mind, his care for us reflecting our own for him. It is to him that we turn when we need someone to support us emotionally.

Oddly enough, he alone of our children insisted that he would make his own independent way in life, to achieve his goals, and he has done just that. Unlike his siblings he refused our help that would have made arrival at his goals a little easier. Now he alone returns to us the assurance that when we need someone to rely upon, he is there.

While a spectacularly breathtaking landscape presents itself after a heavy snowfall, the winter-sleeping trees face hazards resulting from the cold, the winds and the burdens placed upon them
leading to loss of limb, and sometimes life itself.

Saplings bend and groan under the weight of sodden snow. Mature trees already health-compromised, succumb to the blasting effects of merciless winter winds. Conifers, which help to make the landscape so winter-beautiful, surrender their sweeping branches to the force of gravity, weighted by a burden of snow layers, crushing their ability to withstand the rigours of weight and frozen intemperance.

We had a succession of weather-peculiar days this past week, with days alternating from freezing rain to snow, to rain, back to snow and more snow. Ice lavishly covered every surface. And atop that ice, thanks to the rain and the following episodes of heavy snowfall, trees and shrubs were challenged to survive intact.

When, after a number of snowfall events; one throughout the night, another taking up the following morning; we entered the ravine for a walk yesterday, it was to plod along ankle-deep snow-laden trails sunken well below the much loftier snowpack, but already tamped down by a few other hikers who had been there before us, along with the occasional snowshoer and skier.

And true, the forest looked ravishingly lovely, lavishly blanketed in fresh snow, light glinting from sun rays on the ice peeking out here and there from beneath the blanket of snow. And branches carried in a low arc due to the pressure of weight, while felled pine branches were scattered here and there along the trail where they had collapsed, broken from the trunks of old pines no longer able to support the unaccustomed weight.

Dogs walking the trails are delighted at the bonus that the fallen twigs and branches provide for them in chewing material. Skiers have to be adept and quick-thinking to avoid having hanging branches slapping their faces as they zip by, and to manoeuvre around the fallen branches.

But for those trees that have cracked through, leaving tall, naked snags as reminders where a tall forest tree once stood, there will be no spring greeting as sap runs back up to energize new growth. It's a pity, but this is nature's call.

Winter this 2016/17 season, is taking its time settling into a routine. Not that winter is ever predictable since storms can arise with amazing speed and regularity just when we delude ourselves that nature has turned her multiple faces toward 'moderate'. Nothing, ever, can be taken for granted when nature is involved.

Yesterday we ran the gamut yet again from freezing rain, to rain, to snow. There was no intermittent pause in this weather circus, enabling us to get out into the ravine for our usual walk. Throughout the day, rain was persistent and at times copious. Rain, at freezing temperatures and wind is anything but pleasant. And while we would have been curious enough about the manner in which the landscape would present itself, we knew our two little dogs would find it tough going; their hair, despite waterproof garments, soon becoming drenched.

So we abstained. There was more than enough to do between us all. And last night we decided to view another film, this one downright Shakespearean in its psychological exploration of human attributes and deficits, emotions both laudable and psychosocial. The film, "There Will Be Blood" certainly fuelled ample discussion between the three of us, afterward.

Even Jackie and Jillie become involved, upset over some scenes of physical violence that they found to be uncivilized in brutality, barking their little fool heads off.

The day before, after a deep, light snowfall leaving us with a day's-worth of covering, our son had gone skiing in the ravine, and when we went ourselves into the forest for our quotidian taste of winter to trek the trails, we came across far more people than normally frequent the ravine. A New Year's holiday from the tedium of the working schedule will impress upon people that there are healthy and enjoyable alternatives.

This morning we were greeted with another snowfall. Of a certainty, this winter season will turn out to be a record-breaking one, judging by the amount of snow that has fallen thus far, and certain to continue doing so. It was clear that plentiful snow had fallen overnight, as well. The walkways that had been shovelled out yesterday were once again even deeper in snow. Convincing our son to get right out there with his skis to take full advantage of the new, plush covering on the forest floor and its many hills and valleys.

Last night the sky was perfectly clear, a glowing, velvety blue vaulted over Planet Earth. A crescent moon hung high, and under it, Mars. A reflection of the state of humankind's endless conflicts veering into a new year? Who knows what the prominent presence of the symbol of the God of War emphasizes about our inability to live in peace with one another?

And perhaps the message delivered a little more than simply that. In that the crescent moon is one of the primary symbols of Islam, and certainly Islam and conflict appear to be disconcertingly matched, from its 7th Century inception as a religion of conquest to its current manifestation as the sole cause of terrorism through jihad infesting world communities around the globe.

It is food for reflection, albeit uncomfortably sitting on our minds. There, sitting on our minds because of the prevalence and reach into every corner of the world of a religion purporting to be one of peace, but peace eluding even those Muslim faithful whose brand of Islam fails to sit well with those sects who name them apostates, fit for death.

So the question arises, will the war against the Islamic State, which presents as the current presence of malevolent Islam with its Medieval-style executions leaning heavily on the scale of atrocities to shock a world that imagined itself grown well beyond such barbarism succeed in its campaign to put the restive beast to rest?

Amid the jarring reality that Muslim nations like Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Iran among others consider non-Muslims to represent an inferior representation of humanity, countries where apostasy's cure is a death sentence, where state death penalties depend on crucifixion, beheading, torture and public hanging relate to Islam's treasured Shariah law.

It was a turn into a new year, another to add to the notches on our internal ring-growth somewhat like venerable tree stumps offering up their age and climatic experiences, along with the years when they throve because all conditions to do so were just right, and others when growth saw infinitesimally incremental advance resulting from adverse conditions.

Becoming aged; in our case, eighty years of age which is not, some wag noted with comically ironic understatement, for the faint of heart. Yet, we have had the good fortune to meet all of those years with confidence that each would offer up to us opportunities that we could make the most of, and we did.

Algonquin Park, 1956

Yesterday, the first day of the year 2017 was peaceful and pleasant. The youngest of our three children has been spending time with us before he flies back to Vancouver after a brief stop in Montreal for a conference. We enjoyed our usual leisurely meals together and as usual challenged each other to discussion over both trifles and deeper matters, some of which we agree upon and others where our opinions diverged, despite stemming from the solid position of shared fundamentals of philosophy.

Jordan, 1 January 2017

In the afternoon we shared with one another a brisk and beautiful ramble in the wooded ravine we access up the street from our home, coming across a sparse few other local residents who decided like us to touch in with nature after a copious snowfall of the day before.

I decided to make a moussaka casserole, which I'd never prepared before, as something a little different for us for our first evening meal of the new year. Accompanying it with a coleslaw salad I'd prepared earlier. I substituted ground lean chicken for traditional lamb, added some cumin seed to the other herbs and spices and the end result was extremely edible. Finishing off the meal with blueberries grown and picked and sent off to Canada from Peru.

In the evening, we played a game of Pictionary. Humbling me as usual by the crude nature of my drawing as compared to those both my husband and our son are capable of producing with ease and verisimilitude. It was, in short, a splendidly appreciated day to begin 2017.

December 2016 came close to setting a record for snowfall. It didn't quite hit a record high but close enough. During December, snow events often don't have a lasting effect at ground level; milder weather eventuates intermittently reducing the snowpack. This year, though we did have occasional days of freezing rain and even one of plain rain at mid-month, and so, most of the snowpack simply kept accumulating. It was a densely white, very much so, Christmas.

Our neighbours who decorate for Christmas usually keep their coloured lights aglow up until New Year's, and some of them beyond that date, loathe to extinguish them for the dark nights of deep winter. But the dark nights of deep winter are actually a bit of a myth. Once snow covers the ground the reflection of the white coverlet helps to illuminate the area. And bright lights from the city centre beyond where we live influence the sky. So that, on occasion there are nights where the sky blushes alight with a uniform pink or pale plum colour.

Last night was one of the pink nights. All day it had snowed again with a daytime high of minus-9C. Abetted by a stiff wind, it was a challenge we didn't meet. The ongoing, blustering snow and the cold kept us with our little dogs from our usual ravine walk. For one thing new snow on such a cold day presents their little paws with a challenge and they would have to wear those dreaded Mukluks on their paws to keep them warm.

Though our youngest son, with us for the week, did use the occasion to enjoy skiing in the ravine where the trails were as yet undisturbed other than for the tracks he made himself on the pristine white carpet.

Last night at midnight I went out briefly with the puppies before retiring for the night (we were viewing the film "Mr. Turner"), and saw with fascination that the sky was bright with pink depth while snow was still descending, although the wind had abated and the temperature had risen to minus-7C.

A beautiful night to usher in a new year. And so it was that 2017 arrived with pomp and ceremony in the celestial atmosphere crowning the sky.