In an unusual winter such as this is proving to be, when it seems infinitely more sensible to admire the out-of-doors  through the windows of a warm and comfortable home than to forge out into it, you can easily slip into the trap of valuing comfort above the existential need of getting out, moving about, using your physical faculties and treating your aesthetic ones by confronting the cold and the wind, in the process admiring the landscape that is a vital part of your very being.

Looking out to the exterior world from the interior of personal comfort lends itself to remaining indoors. After all, what are you really missing? You can see the glory of nature, the winter sun electrifying the atmosphere with its faint hint of warmth, casting its bright essence on the soft puffiness of new snow, the street you live on cushioned in  the latest layer of snowfall, and all is still, not a person to be seen anywhere, just puffs of white smoke lifting into the blue sky from rooftop chimneys. Why bother exerting yourself?

 And then, a glance at two little dogs' perturbation over enforced indoor stay when they're bursting with enthusiasm to be out there, in the snow, negligent of the wind that, together, in the space of less than five minutes has them lifting their tender little paws when you do take them out to the backyard where  you've assiduously shovelled snow off the walkways to make getting about more convenient for them. So they can race madly after one another, stop to tussle and emit their little grunts of satisfaction at landing a 'punch' here and there in their puppy way.

Finally you look inward to realize that you're restless too, something integral to the day's satisfaction is missing and that element is your daily jaunt in the woods, so accessible, forever beckoning, and you decide it's time to head out. Girding yourself against the cold you put on everything of your winter outdoor garb needed to make the cold and the wind tolerable, along with cleats strapped over your winter boots. Winter boots for the little dogs too, along with their winter jackets and harnesses. And off you go.

To note happily that the incessant rain of the day before last hadn't at all diminished the snowpack measurably, and that the 18 cm of snow that had followed as the temperature plunged back to what has become 'normal' this year in a flash freeze, returned to -20C. The excursion is pleasant, your little dogs are enthused beyond measure, flashing here and there as they race about, their black haircoats against the pure white snow commas flashing on another page of another day. And the bonus, only losing two boots apiece in the process!

We remember certain things that we experienced throughout our lives; certainly as we get older those memories recede and become part of the distant past, rarely examined because there are so many other things happening in our lives that we focus on.

On occasion we stumble across old photographs. What's the reason we take photographs and that they're so dear to us? To capture a moment in time, in our lives, because we know that such memories fade and that we can always take recourse to jogging them from the deep interior recesses of our mind's memory banks if and when we take the trouble to look at the photographs we've stored in aging albums.

And several photographs popped  up just recently, slightly shocking my memory, leading me to wonder why it is that I am one of those people who allowed valued contact to dissipate. Where is Miharu now, what is she doing, what became of her? She was my friend, a sometimes-companion whom my husband had met years before I did because of his link with her family's business. He spoke of her to me, and then I met her.

We had joined a few recreational 'clubs' in Tokyo, one of which took  us to various places we might otherwise not have seen, like a weekend at a Shinto monastery in the mountains, where during the day we could amble through their incomparable gardens, or down a cart trail to the town below, and in the evening sleep on futons in a small room assigned to us, waking at 5:00 a.m. to take part in prayers when I discovered how difficult it is to balance  yourself in a semi-crouch for a prolonged period, then go along to the communal bath and later have a breakfast of miso soup topped with raw egg and dried fish.

The other club was that of Friends of the Earth where we met other foreigners in Japan among the mostly Japanese hikers, and we would awake very early on a weekend morning to take a succession of trains and buses to exit Tokyo and be conveyed to small villages in the mountains where we accessed trailheads and spent hours climbing through the forested hillsides on the lookout for the monkeys signs warned were present, but never seen.

The accumulated snow on rooftops, including our two garden sheds in the backyard stood pretty high, as did several feet of tamped-down snow on the ground, acquired over the winter months to date. But yesterday our urban landscape took on a decided other look altogether, as bit by bit the snow melted and by late afternoon very little of it was actually left.

Well, if it had been early April we'd have been convinced it was time to retire the trusty old snow blower for another season. But this being a date just approaching mid-January which translates to midway through the winter season, the notion was more than a bit presumptively premature. Just because the temperature had soared to 12C degrees and an icefog had greeted us with its remotely-sheer, more opaque blanket first thing in the morning.

And the freezing rain that had pattered on the windows the night before had, as the thermometer rose, turned to rain, relentlessly pouring all night long, continuing on into the morning and from morning to afternoon. We were feeling a little paranoid; 'what had happened to winter?', were our complaints about -26C plunges at night rising to -17C during the daytime accompanied by roaring wind responsible for plunging nature into a misery of unappreciated funk?

Mind, it was pleasant enough meandering through the forested trails in the past two days in temperatures above the freezing mark, where there was no need to walk briskly to keep warm and no concerns that our little dogs' footpads would freeze. We had seen regular splotches of watery blood on the trail here and there signalling that some poor dog had either cut his footpads trampling on ice or that salt had turned his tender pads into excruciatingly painful and exceedingly tender skin that split and bled in the cold.

But Friday's balmy 12C degrees replete with pouring rain began a swift plunge by late afternoon and the rain reverted to freezing rain then rain pellets and finally, snow overnight as -26C temperature returned, greeting us this morning with  fresh snow covering the ice that had flash-frozen the evening before and an early morning reading of -16C. Holiday over. We'd gone from enjoying a brief respite thanks to warm moist air from the Gulf of Mexico, back to the frigid  air moving its Arctic mass into our landscape.

And golly gee, tonight the thermometer will plunge to -26C again, with a daytime high of -17C tomorrow, just a tad of one degree 'warmer' than today's high, with wind gusts both days so sharp and icy that though the thermometer may read -17C, it will feel like -38C.

The great Ottawa Rideau Canal treat for devoted skaters that was finally opened and proudly declared fit for use after having been sufficiently groomed to satisfy the standards of the National Capital Commission only several days earlier, has now been shut down temporarily until such time as the crews can create another solid, smooth surface for the 20,000 skaters that make the longest skating rink in the world their daily destination.

What a difference a day makes. In winter. In Ottawa. Just several days ago, brittle, icy temperature had us convinced the marrow in our very bones was being frozen, thanks to the combination of knife-edge-cutting winds and the plunged  thermometer. When the cold moderated then came the snow, and plenty of it. So we were slogging through 20 cm of snow though temperatures had risen from -20C to a pleasant enough -7C.

All that changed suddenly yesterday when the thermometer soared above freezing and we were out with our two little dogs on our daily walk in the woods in 8C weather. We had a prolonged hike in the forest and never once felt our digits were about to fall off, shattered from the icy cold. And nor did we have to put their warming winter coats on Jackie and Jillie, making do instead with their heavy raincoats, geared to both keep them warm and dry.

We even left their harnesses off, since the raincoats are equipped with little rings we can fasten their leashes to, when leaving the confines of the forest to walk along the street above, and to our house, just down the street. Their usual winter gear doesn't restrict them; they rarely react even when we have to pull on their winter boots in rigidly frigid temperatures. They seem oblivious, prancing about with boots on and scampering so vigorously they sometimes just throw off the boots irrespective of the fact that they've been carefully pulled up to mid-leg and secured with velcro.

Because of the weeks of sub-zero temperatures the creek was well frozen over and topped with a layer of snow. Which is to say that's how it was yesterday afternoon. Late yesterday afternoon the freezing rain began falling and it continued for hours. And then the temperature began rising and the freezing rain turned to ordinary rain and that ordinary rain continued all night. When we came down this morning for breakfast, thick icefog greeted our eyes out the front door. A temperature inversion caused by 8C temperatures that soon rose to 12C, and rain, more rain.

Washing away much of the accumulated snow on the ground, cleansing house roofs of their burden of snow and altering the landscape beyond recognition, taking us back to the early days of winter. Several hours later the temperature had dropped again to 0.7C, and continued dropping. It will drop until it reads -10C, for we've been warned of an impending flash-freeze. And the ordinary rain still falling will turn inevitably to freezing rain. Stiff winds are bringing all of that along in a hurry. One of those days for which that old saying "no fit weather for man nor beast" is more than appropriate.

And so, we're stuck in the house, locked out of a ravine ramble, though we can imagine that the creek, unleashed from its frozen state is madly running with melted snowpack, irresolute over whether it should succumb again to a flash-freeze, while the trails in the forest become a slick, icy network of cautious negotiation.

Sometimes the professionals who track and prognosticate weather get it spectacularly wrong because simply, weather is so unpredictable and examining patterns and expectations is so inexact a science, and sometimes, contrarily, they get it right on. Right on schedule late yesterday afternoon the freezing rain Environment Canada has been issuing warnings about, arrived. But not before my husband had mounted his telescoping ladder to sweep the accumulated snow off the deck's metal canopy as a precautionary measure.

The stability and strength of the canopy, its manufacturers warn -- in an obscure little bit of print on the box containing the set-up that we hadn't noticed when we bought it -- is reliable only for six inches of snow-weight. And since my husband put it together on the deck to give us shade from the afternoon sun, and the deck itself stands about six feet above the ground giving entry through our sliding doors to the breakfast room, it is awkward to clear of snow. On one side of the  canopy it's done with the ladder leaning against the canopy from the height of the deck. On the opposite side, the ladder sits on the ground, a much taller elevation to get to the top of the canopy. I'd prefer, if I had my druthers, that the entire thing be removed, shade be damned.

In any event, once again the canopy was cleared of snow. Had the snow been left in place, although it's only been a week since it was last cleared of six inches and only four inches or so had accumulated since then, the freezing rain atop and penetrating the snow would have resulted in a considerable weight problem ostensibly challenging the strength of the canopy and threatening a collapse.

Out on yesterday's ravine walk with our puppies we came across Max, younger than Jackie and Jillie, a poodle mix, slightly larger than they are, and full of bumptious energy and mischief. Bumping into him and his person meant that our two would enjoy a good, strenuous run-about, racing back and forth; first having fun with Max, then obviously trying to avoid him until all three ran out of energy. Max was wearing a Hudson's Bay doggie coat, very attractive on his Apricot colouration, a signal that his person is loyal to the brand for which she works.

Perusing the newspapers in late afternoon I came across an intriguing recipe for breakfast muffins. I should have recalled I'd baked them previously, quite some time ago, but my curiosity got the better of me and I thought they'd make a different breakfast for this morning. Basically, a corn muffin with shredded cheese, chopped ham and chopped green onions, dry mustard and cayenne pepper in the mix. So I pre-prepared the ingredients and set them aside to quickly whip together and bake this morning. Which I did. And then we all, puppies included, enjoyed them for breakfast.

They're different, but tomorrow we'll revert back to our usual; oatmeal, quinoa mix for me, scrambled eggs and toast for my husband for a long, enjoyably leisure breakfast. Coffee for him, tea for me.

By the thermometer it's colder than it was yesterday by only -3C degrees. But there's a ice-sharp cutting edge to the wind, so it seems much colder today, though compared to the cold we've been experiencing for the past two weeks, it's still downright balmy. No question the creek has frozen over. It should, it isn't all that deep and the Rideau Canal and the mighty Ottawa River, with their infinitely greater depths of water have now securely frozen to a good depth.

Unlike yesterday when it seemed so warm that by the time we'd completed our lengthy circuit through the forest, we were warm enough to discard our mittens, when we had not come across anyone else save for the few yards it takes people to enter and quickly exit with their dogs at points where the trails intersect with area streets, today was a different story; it was colder and certainly windier, but there were others around and about doing brisk circuits through the forest trails.

We came across Max who never under any circumstances surrenders his daily ravine ramble, but did recently because he and his wife had come down with a nasty case of food poisoning. He connects it to the e.coli outbreak in romaine lettuce which has struck eastern Canada and which Health Canada has been issuing warnings to avoid since mid-December. Even the Centers for Disease Control in the U.S. has recognized the problem which appears to be showing up there, too.

I don't miss lettuce in our salads, truth to tell, since there's so many other types of vegetables that are preferable; better tasting and packed full of minerals and vitamins, although it's true that other types of lettuce have been given a clean bill of  health, as it were.

The snowpack in the ravine is a considerable depth now and it's a bit of a struggle, since it isn't yet packed down tight on the trails, going uphill. Not that Jackie and Jillie notice; they're in full gear whenever we're out there, scampering along the trails, going off-trail into deeper snow to investigate intriguing odours and coming back caked with snow. It takes awhile these days to rid them of the icy, snowy patches on their legs and feet once we return home, but they're patient and we manage.

There's a rise in temperature predicted for later this afternoon with a freezing rain warning. As so often happens in January we're also warned to anticipate days of surprising warmth, about 6C, bringing with it instead of snow, rain, which will certainly serve to reduce the snowpack until that front moves on and the cold and snow return.

We did think we'd be able to get out on the trails in the forest yesterday since  the high was forecasted for -7C, and though it was windy we thought we'd be able to take our two little imps out for a walk. We've been stuck indoors for days in temperature highs of -17C and gusting winds. Instead, the 'light snow' that Environment Canada forecasted to bring us 2 cm during the day yesterday turned out to be an all-day snow event.

Several hours following breakfast it was hard to credit the depth of snow that had accumulated in the backyard necessitating that, given the constant snowfall, the pathways in the back had to be shovelled lest we lose Jackie and Jillie in one of the growing drifts.

By afternoon it was clear that with the cold, the wind and the growing snowpack it wouldn't be a whole lot of fun trying to slog through the ravine. Toddling up the street to the group mailbox to retrieve mail was an exercise in human snow-plowing alone. By evening the snow finally stopped and we hoped that today would being us more reasonable weather.

Lucky us, a high of -1C, little wind and no snow, so we were good to go and go we did. Although the puppies needed their winter coats they didn't require boots given the temperature and that was a relief, so off we set. All that newfallen snow was really hard to slog through, taking more energy than we'd counted on to do the trick. But we persevered and deciding against a shortened circuit, took our time and had a good long trek through the forest.

It was obvious that some people had been out before us, but not many, certainly not enough to tramp down the snow to a manageable level. It won't take long, though, and if we don't get too much more snow tomorrow (4 cm is expected) to top off the 15 cm received yesterday, it should be far easier going on tomorrow's trek.

We hope we've finally returned to normal January weather. A January thaw, though isn't entirely unlikely and would be typical of this region's whacky winter weather.