We're right royally fed up with being shut out of our daily ravine walks. We miss the forest trails, the look of the forest, the trees marbled with snow that no amount of wind can shake down, the appearance of old stumps well padded in snow, like fat little gnomes of the forest, the deepening snowpack on the forest floor and the sheer exuberance we feel being out in the cold, crisp air, the most breathable, clean air possible.

We know our two little dogs miss their daily jaunts in the ravine, as well. When they're out in the backyard they go a little berserk, loving the snow, the bracing cold, the urge to romp about, the challenges one brings to the other to run after, jump higher, box and wrestle better. Unfortunately, in this hugely unusual, prolonged deep-freeze we've been undergoing, they aren't out for too long before they begin to feel the icy-cold biting their paws, cooling down their bodies to an uncomfortable degree. Then their happiness turns to puzzlement and they make a beeline up the stairs to the deck and shiver at the patio doors. We, of course, are right behind them.

We vowed that today we'd no longer hesitate to take them out. Inclement weather or not. Those -20C days never kept us out of the ravine in years past. So on with their sweaters, winter coat over the sweaters, broad leather halter over the coat, and last, their boots. We reasoned that if we kept them on the leash while we went along the forest trails they wouldn't exert themselves in a display of their usual bouncy attitudes and the boots would remain in place. So, we set out, ourselves well insulated against the cold, in the -17C temperature that is today's high. It felt tolerable.

We felt confident we'd be able to do a circuit -- at least a relatively short one -- with little discomfort to them or to us. The wind that cut through layers of clothing out on the street abated once we dipped out way into the forest. But before we even got that far, the first boot came off. Two minutes later, another boot, one for each of them. So the boots had to be manoeuvred back on.

We'd gone barely  1/15th of the way that a short circuit would take us when we realized it was a futile venture. Boots came off either of them at least ten times, necessitating that gloves be taken off, bare hands exposed to the cold, and cold, stiff fingers used to negotiate the boots back onto reluctant little feet. Finally, we just gave up, returned home and called it a day.

Disappointing. There's a lesson there. The old boots I used to make for our little dogs decades ago, of my own design, might not have appeared anything near as professional in appearance as the Muttluks well-advertised brand we now use, but they worked a whole lot better. On rare occasions one boot might come off; nothing to resemble the experience we've had with these professionally-designed and manufactured boots with such an undeserved reputation for dependable practical use.

This is the first time I can recall being a virtual prisoner in my home on the occasion of my birthday. It is, of course, solely voluntary. On other, earlier years of my birth date weather played no part whatever in deciding what we would do in winter to exercise and amuse ourselves. Venturing out into a woodland setting to enjoy the winter atmosphere was always our choice and we pursued it. Not necessarily without also doing other things, but celebrating winter was integral to our living in a climate in which winter is an emphatic presence.

This winter, during the time of my birthday, my 81st birthday that also coincides with the universal celebrations for Christmas and of New Year's, outdoor activities are writ large in the leisure activity schedule of many people, and certainly it always has been for us. This, however, has been an unusual week, one of widespread polar Arctic cold carried over a wide geographic area in North America following an unusual amount of snowfall also for this early part of the winter season.

Our youngest son is spending time with us, my husband, our two little dogs and me. The weather he has become accustomed to in Vancouver is nowhere near as dramatically extreme as it is in Ottawa. He, however, seeks out his own lifestyle adventures by venturing into the mountains to ski and to hike; even there, ascending the mountains, the atmosphere doesn't tend to reach the frigid icy temperatures we have in eastern Canada. Here, extreme cold carries with it moist conditions that exacerbate the cold. In next-door Alberta and in Saskatchewan and Manitoba though, the temperatures do drop just as they do in the Northern Territories and in the Canadian Arctic.

Yesterday, late afternoon, our son went out skiing in the forested ravine that we have voluntarily shut ourselves out of for the last several days. We'll venture back in there and resume our normal daily hikes in the forest as soon as the temperature no longer sinks to a daytime high of minus-17C, with wind that cuts right through you.

My husband busied himself in seclusion for hours creating a birthday card for me. That too has become a tradition. When our three children were young their father made them amusing birthday cards. Mine this year was a reflection of our garden. A sketch of part of the garden and bright watercolours to bring out the focal points, the garden's architecture, a hint of its texture and coloured hues of the many perennials and annuals that grace it. Needless to say the garden today bears little resemblance to its vibrant summer presence.

I could become accustomed to being indoors for such long periods, but I prefer not to. We both feel that something critical is missing from the day when we can't spend at least an hour in the woods on the trails. When our little dogs lose their boots from their ecstatic leaps and bounds and scampering on and off the snowbound trails, we've got to stop and restore them lest their tiny feet freeze. I can imagine they feel as bound up as we do in layers of clothing to retain body heat, wearing sweater, coat and harness. In the backyard, during this weather, they're good for a good brief romp and then their feet freeze up.

Yesterday, in a nod to the season, my birthday and the freezing temperatures, I baked a lattice-top mincemeat pie, put on a chicken soup to cook and matzo dumplings, roasted turkey breast, roasted cauliflower, and made up a potato pudding for a robust, stomach-filling, chest-warming dinner we all enjoyed.

In the evening we watched a film that gave rise to a good, lengthy discussion between us afterward. A French film with English subtitles, The Measure of a Man, wasn't quite entertaining in the sense of the meaning, but it was a good and timely reminder of the era we live in and the accommodations we are sometimes forced to make to sustain ourselves. As much a reminder of the unknowns about the personal lives of other people and their heroic efforts to live normal lives, as it is in essence, a nudge at our universal values and priorities in human relations.

This will be one of those winters to remember. It doesn't appear to resemble the kind of winter that Environment Canada predicted for the 2017/2018 year at all, but it is certainly what has developed. We've already received an inordinate amount of snow to begin the accumulated winter snowpack this early in the season, though to be sure it's not unusual.

The level and depth and widespread nature of the cold is, however. Granted, we usually receive a number and even a succession of minus-20C days during the winter, but when the temperature drops to minus-30C that is really unusual. And that this cold weather will be prolonged, lasting a week, is even more unusual.

What we've been hit with -- and it's all over the land mass that we call Canada, the second-largest national land mass on Earth -- is called a polar vortex and it has spread its blanket of icy cold from the Arctic over much of North America, for the United States' territory, south of this country, is also experiencing extraordinary cold, wintry temperatures in states that don't normally shiver and shake as we do in Canada.

People are being urged by the municipality to call 311 if they see anyone living in the out-of-doors in this horribly inclement weather. Homeless shelters are ready to receive them through street outreach services.

People are being warned to be careful about frostbite because the prospects for that are fairly lively; white spots on cheeks are a giveaway. Last night the temperature plunged to minus-30C; in some areas to minus-32C. When we came down for breakfast this morning the thermometer had risen to minus-28C. By midday it is expected to be around minus-20C, but when factoring in the windchill it will feel more like minus-38C.

Ottawa Public Health advises that "At -15Celsius, the risk of hypothermia increases significantly and prolonged exposure to cold temperatures can result in severe injury and even death"; pretty sobering information. A wind chill of -25 risks frostbite substantially.

When we were younger, we just dressed for the weather and plunged ahead in minus-20C temperatures, even with a wind. We would walk briskly through the ravine for an hour or so, and the energy expended kept us warm. At our age we no longer walk at that same swift pace and the result is we don't keep warm. So, for the time that this exceedingly icy weather stays with us, we'll forbear
from our usually daily walks.

When we take our two little dogs out to the backyard, they're excited and instantly begin taunting one another to races and wrestling bouts. But it doesn't take long before their tiny paws begin to feel the sting of the cold, and then playtime moves to the indoors on these days of forest-trail abstinence.

At the nearby community of Perth, the tradition of a polar plunge is set to proceed regardless of the temperature. An average of fifty people take part in that plunge into the Tay River. Organizers of the Perth Polar Bear Plunge feel that these icy conditions shouldn't hinder the event. "The colder the air temperatures, the warmer the water feels", said one of the organizers.

Winter in Canada can be captivatingly beautiful and horrendously disruptive. So far, we in the Ottawa Valley have experienced much in the first category, while on the Atlantic East Coast, Nova Scotia was hit on Christmas Day with a tremendous windstorm that wreaked havoc throughout the province; roof shingles flying off, electrical poles cracked, trees uprooted, and thousands of homes without electrical power.

Damaged power lines are seen in Dartmouth, N.S., on Tuesday, Dec. 26, 2017. Thousands of Nova Scotia Power customers are without electricity after a Christmas Day windstorm wreaked havoc across the province, interrupting dinners and disrupting travel. THE CANADIAN PRESS/Andrew Vaughan

Environment Canada had earlier issued a prognosis for the coming winter; normally bitterly cold northern areas of the country are to have an amazingly mild winter season, while the southern, moderate portion of the country will be experiencing a harsh, cold winter. As for us in the Ottawa Valley, the forecast is for a winter similar to that of 2016/17, with plenty of snow and 'average' cold temperatures.

Last night, the temperature plunged to minus-24C, and was minus-20C when we awoke this morning. It won't be rising much above that throughout the day. But the sun is out and streaming through our house windows, warming the interior. When we'd gone out for our daily ravine hike yesterday it was windy, sunny and minus-12C; with the windchill factored in, the effect was that of a minus-22C day, and it felt like it.

Jackie and Jillie had to wear their full winter gear. Both 'lost' boots several times during our hike along the forest trails. They're puppies, after all, with a tendency to romp and scamper excitedly off the tramped-down trails and into the lofty snow-covered areas, their activities geared to testing the ability of those boots to remain in place. When they don't, one of us picks up the lost-boot pup (me) while my husband fits the boot back on. Sometimes they remain in place for the duration of the walk sometimes they don't. Standing about, attending to the job at ungloved hand rather than forging ahead, takes its toll.

In the last few days before this year closes to welcome in 2018, we've come across some new trail hikers. One, a standard poodle, black like ours but weighing eight times as much, was happy to be out in the snow and eager to play with our two. At first puzzled by their strenuous barking chorus, the large dog named Linus soon ignored the tumult they create, and delightedly gambolled with them into the snowpack.

Another day we came across a fiery-hued pair of young Irish setters, the younger 8 months, the older one a year ahead, with someone we'd never before met. All four dogs, our little poodles and the beautifully proportioned larger dogs set about making inroads in the freshly-fallen snow. One of the setters discovered an ice-covered portion of a branch and took proud possession of the treasure, and when we parted, took it with him. When we met them again three-quarters of an hour later as we were rounding up our circuit, he still had his new toy with  him.

On Christmas Eve, snow began falling late in the evening and continued throughout the night. When we awoke the next morning there was a soft, cushiony plumping of snow covering the snowpack that covers everything, that had accumulated from all the earlier snowfalls. The snow continued to fall through the morning hours on Christmas Day. And then, surprisingly, when the snow ceased, the sky briefly cleared and the sun shone its approval over the scene below.

In fact, it seemed that this was the most perfect indication that the elements of nature's weather system were recognizing how special a day this was for so many people. Visually it was exquisite. Our garden is now truly a winter garden, the trees festooned with snow, the garden beds deep in snow hiding all the summer perennials until spring arrives.

Because it was Christmas Day it was quiet and serene. Neighbours and friends had already wished one another a  Merry Christmas in the days previous, and no one, it seemed, was prepared to venture out-of-doors. True, it was windy, and the wind caught up the snow tossing it about in white, gauzy plumes everywhere. People seemed content to remain in their homes, to feast upon edible treats and to feast their eyes on those whom they care for, in a tradition of renewing faith with their religion and re-appreciating all that they have.

It must have been gnomes making their way through the forest yesterday, ensuring that boughs weighted down with snow retained that pristine appearance for a perfect Christmas landscape. One year, they had tied a big bright red ribbon around what was left of an old wooden bench, gradually falling into total disrepair, and the sight was something to behold ... but not this year.

There is a deep padding of snow covering the forest floor. Today dawned very cold, with a high temperature of minus-12C, wind tearing snow from tree trunks. Today, our puppies needed a sweater, their winter jacket and boots to keep them tolerably warm. Letting them loose in the forest pleases them mightily, and they tear through the trails, ramping up speed so that their little legs fly in all directions.

The creek has almost completely frozen over, at the bottom of the ravine. Snow covers most of it, atop the ice. It's the handsomest the creek ever looks, in fact.

I cannot have been more than three or four years old when I saw a lighted, decorated, glorious Christmas tree for the first time. An Italian family lived next door to the house on Manning Street in Toronto where my parents rented the top flat of a house consisting of a kitchen, two bedrooms and a shared bathroom. Someone of the family invited me into the house. And there, sitting in the parlour, was a blazing wonder of a Christmas tree, and my eyes goggled in pleasure.

There too sat a grey-haired old woman plump in the comfort of a rocking chair, knitting. The colour of what she was knitting didn't appeal, it was a strange green-brown-grey colour I would years later recognize as a grim shade of colour reflecting the Canadian Armed Forces. She was knitting toques and scarves and mittens for Canadian soldiers.

It wasn't much later when I was introduced to more, many more visions of Christmas, when the great downtown department stores, Eaton's and Simpsons had their huge windows facing pedestrian sidewalks dressed with fantastic scenes of rural, snowy Christmas scenes, so beautiful they clasped the heart of a little girl, as they did those of anyone strolling past. Only many of those making their way through the wintry, snowy sidewalks stopped to linger beside the displays, led in many instances by the grasp of a child insisting they must.

That was the prelude; the up-close and very personal exposure came on entry to those giant shops when on specific floors reached by elevators streaming Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and other musical Christmas durables of the day, fairies and gnomes disported themselves in absolute wonders of Christmas fairylands, some handing out goodies to children, and long lines of eager children awaiting the opportunity to sit on Santa's lap.

After all those years, the impression of wonder, the fascination of seeing the bright lights, colour, music and joy associated with welcoming Christmas for yet another year has never dissipated. It's snowing now, the world outside the comfort of our home a landscape deep in snow, the atmosphere stippled with more falling. A calm and serenity has fallen over the land.

Handel's Christmas oratorio wafts its sweet and wistful tones throughout the house.

No question this would be a snow-filled landscape for Christmas this year. People always seem to be concerned that the weather will go awry and forget its obligation to shower the landscape with fresh, white snow. In our 45 years of living in Ottawa we can, if we really strain at the effort, dimly recall one Christmas when indeed there was no snow, but it was an anomaly, never repeated since that colossal disappointment that likely took place three decades ago.

Still, the thought does linger in peoples' minds. Typically snow begins falling in the Ottawa Valley in November. Usually by the end of November there's a good blanket of it covering the ground and the ground indeed is beginning to freeze. But then, invariably there are breaks in the cold and the snow and milder days transpire, and with them rain to wash away the snow and thaw the frozen earth.

We've now acquired a depth of about a foot of snow at this juncture. It's very early winter, however, and there will be more, much more to come. My husband had to get up on a ladder and shove the snow off the metal canopy we've got over our deck. Before it was installed, instructions warned that over six inches of snow there was a possibility of collapse. We had that, and more, and roughly in the middle of that (we estimated) nine inches there was a layer of frozen snow, making the weight even more burdensome.

Footing wasn't bad on the forest trails once we launched ourselves onto them this afternoon. Gloriously bright it was, with the sun in full illumination, casting shadows over the snow, and little wind to speak of; not too cold at minus-7C. A perfect December 24, all told, and people we came across were beyond cheerful. Greetings went the rounds and best wishes for a Happy Christmas. It was as though people were floating on air, grinning and playful, companion dogs usually in tow or romping ahead.

Thoughts of sumptuous meals with friends and family lingering deep within; the imagination doesn't have to work on overtime, all one has to do is recall those scenes going back to childhood for the ultimate comfort of sentiment and anticipation. For some, when they return from the woods and open their house door, the divine fragrance of an oven deep in the throes of putting finishing touches to a Christmas meal would envelop them; for others that would be delayed to Christmas Day.

It is, no matter such small distinctions, the one day of the year that people look forward to; a cultural, religious, heritage day of celebration with its roots deep in memory, refurbished over the years, build-up to excitement and serenity of mind. At the very least, that's how we imagine it to be. Particularly those who don't celebrate Christmas as a religious holiday, but regard it as a public celebration of event of lights and colour, music and happiness shared with loved ones.

It is a time of celebrated inclusiveness, in fact.