There is nothing short of a gentle state of melancholy that washes over us in the absence of loved ones. When our children come for a visit, the time passes so swiftly. And when that time comes as it must and as it does all-too-soon to say our goodbyes once again, the sobering reality of physical distance clangs its dissonance in our souls.

We look forward with great anticipation to the date they will arrive and when we meet them at the train terminal, bus station or airport, it is always in a state of exuberant joyfulness. And then, just a short time later -- a matter of a week or two -- our emotions are once again plunged into the dismal realization that yet another separation looms.

It is, of course, life as it happens. Children lead their own lives; they should and they will and their parents expect and applaud it. They require total independence once parents have exposed their children to the values and the qualities in the management of life, to set out on their own and make of their lives what they will. Parents wish nothing more for their children than fulfillment and satisfaction and nothing less than confidence in the future and the kind of happiness in life that everyone deserves.

Always back-of-mind, these realizations and acceptances, as when we parted once again with our youngest child yesterday morning. The very atmosphere of the house becomes charged with their presence when they're there. And the house itself seems to settle into a state of slight confusion in their absence. Then once again life assumes its normal rhythms and everyone returns to what is currently their usual state of being.

Jackie and Jillie ask no questions. They may, in their own way, wonder why suddenly there are four of us again when there was just so recently five. But they adjust swiftly as do we eventually, after murmuring to ourselves quietly how strange it all is, the transformation so palpable we could reach out and touch it. And we do, smiling at one another, speaking silently and hugging with the joy of our union.

Then we head out for an afternoon walk in the forest to soothe our bruised souls. And the forest does its very best to accommodate. It offers us the splendour of its sparkling-white snowbound loveliness. It offer us the opportunity to enjoy the solitude of the forest. It affords us the pleasure of striding along forest trails cushioned by a newfallen layer of snow.

And in watching the acrobatic antics of our two little dogs it reminds us that there are so many things in our lives for which we have great reason to be grateful, for our good fortune is manifest in the longevity of our marriage, and the celebration of our love for one another.

There was a time when no extremes of temperature fazed us. We'd just dress with extra layers against the cold and set out, confident that the energy we expended would more than compensate for the cold and keep us decently comfortable. That, however, was when we had energy to burn and more. Say, up until two decades ago, when in our early 60s we could barrel right along.

Different story now. We move at a more moderate pace, and if a lot of energy has been expended, say a long climb up a snowy hill, we take a moment to rest when we reach the top before carrying on. While our younger son has been with us he has accommodated himself to our pace, but it comes at a cost to him; the slower the pace, the greater the infiltration of cold and the piercing fingers of the wind.

Usually, after he's accompanied us on a ravine hike through the forest he straps on his cross-country skies (he maintains skis and boots here as well as a bicycle, for his visits with us) and goes out to do some serious skiing, ranging much further afield than we tend to do. In this way fulfilling in part his own energy-expenditure needs and exposure to other landscapes while facing welcome physical challenges.

We'd had another overnight modest snowfall of about four centimeters the night before and the temperature had dropped from its benevolent zero centigrade to minus-16, rising to a barely-tolerable (for us) minus-14C by afternoon, with just enough of a wind to make for a bit of discomfort, despite the sun peering through the clouds from time to time.

It was still early in the afternoon when we set out to the ravine to enjoy a cold but beautiful-to-behold forest landscape. At the very start we came across a couple who also hike regularly like us, Tom and Terry with their daughter visiting from Montreal who had brought along her LabraDoodle mix, a big furry bundle of excitement at being in the forest landscape. Terry asked about the birthday card she had placed in our porch mailbox, but I hadn't seen it since we rarely look there given that Canada Post delivers to a group mailbox located at the entrance to the ravine.

But she had hugs she wanted to share with me and that was better than any card. By this time our son had caught up with us since we'd left quite a bit before he was ready. We've gone through the ravine on many occasions with him on skis and us hiking along, but Jackie and Jillie can be difficult at such times; they don't understand nor appreciate those long appendages that suddenly spring to life, and tend to run after the skis, barking furiously the while.

In any event, the conditions for skiing were pretty awful and it soon became apparent it wasn't going to happen. So our son made his way back up the first hill and went off in another direction entirely where the ravined forest continues across a major street and where skiing conditions are much improved, allowing him to have an enjoyable outing on his own.

We continued on, the wind whipping across our faces, but managing to hold our own despite the penetrating cold. Jackie and Jillie were exuberant as usual with their daily trail ramble, poking themselves here and there through the trees and the thicker layers of snow on the forest floor off-trail, their little rubber boots keeping them comfortable and protected against the ice and snow, enabling us all to enjoy another winter day in this frequently-unforgiving climate of ours.

It's always pleasantly exciting to welcome a new snowfall. And the snow that fell, though not copiously on Monday night along with rising temperatures was more than welcome. We needed both to combat the conditions imposed on this landscape of ours in the last several weeks with weather conditions conspiring wickedly to leave us with all surfaces lacquered in a thick layer of ice, so hard and treacherous it was impervious to the spikes on our cleats pulled over our boots.

People had ample horror stories to tell of close encounters with the peril of slipping, sliding and tumbling on the icy surfaces. And needless to say local hospitals were kept busy tending to people arriving with the results of bad falls. It's particularly worrisome, of course, for the elderly who venture out of doors in urban centers in the hopes of doing a little grocery shopping for themselves, half-expecting the enterprise will land them in trouble, and finding in many instances those expectations to have been predictively accurate.

As for us, we were delighted once we emerged from the house. We evaluated the situation, bearing in mind that though the morning had dawned with a 0C temperature with a nice, but modest 4cm snow covering, the first thing we would be well advised to do to celebrate the new year of 2019 would be to venture out immediately for a leisurely and beautiful-to-behold walk in the woods, then have our breakfast on our return.

The reason being was that the weather forecast was for the winds to pick up to considerable gusts much beyond what the morning had brought, and the temperature to plunge to -14C. So off we went, to the great excitement of Jackie and Jillie who had found, like us, that walking along the street to begin a tour of local byways and encountering noisy road traffic rather than the peaceful serenity of a forest was definitely not to our liking.

The soft, evanescent blinking of new snow on the trees capturing what light was available under a pewter sky always makes us catch our breath with its bewitching qualities. Our boots crunched securely into stabilizing snow, though the underlying ice manifested itself visually from time to time, but our confidence had been restored in our ability to remain upright and we simply set aside the concerns we'd nursed so recently about broken bones.

Soon conditions began to change, as stray fingers of sunlight haphazardly stroked their presence through the forest canopy briefly illuminating the snow before once again disappearing. The clouds were beginning to break up and from time to time the sun could be seen doing its utmost to cast its brilliance over the snowy landscape.

We came across a handful of other trail walkers, all enjoying the atmosphere, everyone fully appreciative of the wonderful opportunities we have so close at hand to nature's best qualities. Jackie spurted everywhere in his anxiety not to miss anything, and it's doubtful there were any 'messages' left in the snow and the floor of the forest shrubbery that he failed to interpret.

The soft snow captured the sounds of our voices, our son and my husband speaking of many things together as we all strode with comfort and confidence through the trails, each one of us at various times pointing out areas of interest to everyone else. My husband again pointed out the beauty of the bittersweet vine's berries now outlined in snow as it twined its way up and around tree branches. The creek tributaries remained frozen but now had a thin layer of melted ice overtop.

Our son pointed out the swaying tree canopy as the wind sent its brute strength through the masts of tall old conifers. From time to time the sound of two trees clacking together informing of the strength of the gusts produced their unique forest chorus. In the distance there was a hoarse cry of a raven. A pileated woodpecker rattled somewhere off in the forest, its metronomic cadence telling us it wasn't too far away.

At one time our daughter had the care and responsibility of looking after eleven dogs of all shapes, sizes, breeds. Most were rescue dogs. Some she adopted after caring for them temporarily while they awaited permanent homes, but were never taken into other families. They ranged in size from a  Chihuahua and a toy Pomeranian to a rescue from Nunavut, a cross between a Malamute and a German Shepherd which had been abandoned as a puppy. One of the dogs was a boxer that had been horribly maltreated and that resulted in a lifetime (his) of violent attitudes toward other dogs though he made fast friends with the Chihuahua.

As will happen with dogs, they grow old all too soon. All of the dogs with few exceptions were young when they joined our daughter's household. And her home, of necessity to be enabled to keep so many dogs without violating municipal bylaws, had to be in a country setting, which determined where she would live. As it was she had to take out a special license even then so she could keep them all without coming afoul of any bylaws.

Her home, on just over five acres of land, an old converted log schoolhouse that saw service in the 1860s, since updated to a house, gave ample room for the dogs to roam about freely though they always chose to be indoors unless our daughter was with them. One by one she lost them as they died of old age. She now has just the Chihuahua, elderly and wanting nothing much more than to rest and sleep, and a 13-year-old part German Shepherd slowing down considerably.

They visited with us last Saturday and that was the first of three days in succession that we found ourselves locked out of a ravine walk. Our daughter's dog Sara had somehow fallen and twisted her hind end in their house of all places a few days earlier and was still in some discomfort. We thought at first she could walk in the ravine on the forest trails on leash, but because the trails were icy, we had to think differently and forgo a walk for that day.

As it happened, the weather continued to give us icy conditions underfoot. The succeeding two days, Sunday and then Monday, saw us forced to take Jackie and Jillie for walks on the street, around the block sort of thing, an exposure that confused them and displeased us, even as an alternative for the opportunity to get some fresh air and a bit of exercise for our limbs. When we'd ventured into the ravine under those unusually icy conditions, it became speedily clear that even the icers over our boots failed to grip the glacial ice deposit on the forest floor, leading us to a speedy exit.

Ah, but last night, finally, there was some snow; not much, just 6cm, but snow withal. And the temperature had risen to zero degrees, although there was a good wind. So we decided, we and our son and Jackie and Jillie to hie ourselves out to the ravine before breakfast to take full advantage of these new conditions and enjoy a long walk through the forest trails, and that's just what we did.

Our rare disappointment of the past several days of being locked out of the forest due to dangerous conditions lifted, and as we hiked along the newly-snowed trails, we heard a raven, made out countless tracks on the fresh snow of various little furred animals, and came across other hiking acquaintances as pleased as we were to be out there in that gorgeous landscape, able to negotiate our way up and down hill with no problems whatsoever.

Deliverance at last from the malevolent threat inherent in icy trails, to our great relief. Night before last there was a light snowfall, followed by ice pellets which eventually became rain as the morning wore on. Added to that little bonus was the face that the temperature rose from -16C to 6C by mid-afternoon. No boots for Jackie and Jillie yesterday!

Less fuss, far less, in getting prepared to forge out into the woods. And when we did venture out it was to find our driveway crusted with ice and slippery, hence the continued need for cleats. But strangely enough, the road was nowhere near as icily-dangerous as it has been for the past week. Enough of a fine crust over the sheer ice to give a modicum of reassuring traction.

There was another difference made abundantly clear as we looked off into the distance. Mist had resulted from all those alternating atmospheric conditions and a winter fog had settled in; light and diaphanous and mysterious. All the more so once we delved into the forest.

An otherworldly quality seems to be emphasized in those conditions, inexpressibly lovely and with just a hint of the unknown lurking behind it. And then, as we progressed along the trails, comfortable in the milder temperature prevailing, we became aware of a light rain descending and gradually picking up pace, but never to the point of achieving a disturbing presence.

Good thing, the thought went instantaneously through our minds, that Jackie and Jillie were wearing their winter raincoats. I'd brought out their fluffy winter jackets and my husband substituted them for the raincoats before we dressed them for the outing, and a good thing that was, too.

There was nothing uncomfortable about the rain; we were well shielded both from the cold and the rain since our winter jackets are fairly impervious to both. So we had no hesitation about embarking on a good, long walk. One of assurance of balance, furthermore, since the snow, pellets and freezing rain of the night before had ensured that an ice-covering crust had been laid down on the forest floor making the trails more than passably footing-secure.

That, in and of itself, made a colossal difference. Where in days past, we found it necessary to bypass the trails altogether in favour of delving off-trail into the woods to thread our way through safely where there was crusted snow to tread on with the comfort of knowing it offered stability unlike the iced-over trail we had abandoned, it all made for a far more enjoyable hike.

Ascents we had detoured around, taking alternate trails to avoid the steep inclines and with them the potential of slipping, sliding and falling to a thump, were now readily accessible. Which made for a leisurely tromp through the woods, giving us ample opportunity to appreciate the misted beauty of the snow ornamenting the trees as we took our time and completed our favourite long loop through the woods.

There weren't very many people out besides ourselves, only one young man we see on occasion out walking his mother's bouncy little miniature Apricot poodle, Max, the most energetic little dog imaginable with a true sense of mischief as well as enterprise, since in his love of life and adventure little Max has learned to entertain himself and yesterday he did so with a frozen apple from one of the wild apple trees, tossing it into the air repeatedly and chasing after it as it rolled downhill -- to retrieve and repeat.

On days as cold as yesterday when the high for the day reached -8C, the forest floor was frozen solid, and the surrounding forest trees were still outlined with the remnants of the last snowfall, the landscape is inexpressibly beautiful.

Mind, there was a cutting wind to complement the cold. And despite that we were, we three and our two little dogs, dressed for the weather, the icy cold did wrap its fingers around our exposed faces and nipped as well into our vulnerable fingers, mitten-clad or not.

There were no complaints from Jackie and Jillie, they were too busy as usual exploring the milieu surrounding them. One they are intimately familiar with, so much so that Jillie trotted confidently ahead as usual and then got left behind when we decided to take one of those trails we don't often veer onto.

From above, on that alternate trail, we were very aware of her puzzled barking as though to say 'where are you all, where did you go to?' to which we responded, 'up here, Jillie' and lickety-split she tripped the Light Fantastic to rejoin us. Usually when she hurries ahead like that she also looks back from time to time to ensure that we're still in sight. She missed that assurance this time around.

And turning off onto an unfamiliar trail also provides a bit of a perk for them since though they may have been there before on a few occasions, those were still rare occasions. So this gave them the opportunity to re-acquaint themselves to a less-travelled route. Which Jackie, our little explorer, took full and immediate advantage of, while his sister confined herself to the straight-and-narrow, remaining on the trail, but hurrying ahead though her brother forged his way through the forest alongside the trail.

We took that alternate to avoid a double hill requiring two ascents and a questionable descent between them -- which becomes reversed when travelling in the opposite direction. That was our choice yesterday in a bid to avoid some fancy footwork on the icy trails. As it was, we were unable to avoid many of those long, icy patches, and took to winding our way among the trees, off the trail rather than risk what seemed inevitable; another slide and fall.

It worked rather well, for the most part. And there was the additional advantage of having to exert more energy as a result of those alternate avenues the weather conditions forced upon us, since exerting more energy also keeps one warmer.

And despite the concern over the wicked trail conditions there are plenty of areas that are flat, so the ice there doesn't pose that much of a risk, before being confronted yet again with an ascent or descent. As far as Jackie and Jillie are concerned, there's not much difference in the terrain; they happily tackle all conditions. Little Riley used to be terrified of icy conditions and we had to lift him until the way became decently approachable again; not these two.

I'll tell you how badly we need snow to cover the icy conditions we've been left with on the ground after freeze-and-thaw cycles following rain events when snow should have been falling but failed to. On our way up the street to gain the entrance to the ravine early this afternoon, although I was wearing my cleats firmly strapped over my boots, I nonetheless slipped sideways on the road ice, thick and uneven, and fell with a resounding thud. You know the kind of sound you make when people beside you wince because the sound quite equals the force with which your unready body hits the ground? That kind.

Our son, right at my side, hauled me to my feet, while his father frantically asked if I was all right. Of course I was, and on we went to reach the ravine entrance and beyond into the forest. There, we discovered that the trails, if anything, were even worse than they'd been in the previous days while we were awaiting a snow cover to reduce the danger of slipping. Needless to say we all proceeded with the required caution. We took a particularly long circuit, despite the icy conditions. Our son refused to wear cleats and he managed as he always does, with his long and intimate familiarity with the out-of-doors and its seasonal challenges.

Jackie and Jillie experienced no problems, and with their little rubber booties they booted it right along, scampering here and there in a display of exuberant pleasure at just being there, on the trails, Jillie zipping straight ahead and Jackie meandering swiftly off trail into the thick of the underbrush on the forest trails; so many irresistible fragrances to discover....

As it happened, it was in very fact, snowing. The forecast had been for morning flurries, but we discovered those flurries had decided to stick around and they kept coming down throughout the afternoon, sometimes heavily, at other times more lightly, but regardless we were grateful. We will, however, need a lot more than mere flurries however fluffy and beautiful to behold, to make a difference in the situation we're facing of such icy surfaces everywhere.

We took our time, our son slowing his usual pace considerably to accommodate our more cautious and necessarily slower one. The ascents and descents were nothing short of demanding physically and auguring problems if care were not taken adequately, so we obeyed that imperative in the best interests of remaining upright and in control.

We went out to do our usual weekly grocery shopping afterward. Since it's Boxing Day and people are lured to all the sales advertising, we anticipated the supermarket would be relatively becalmed and it was. After we'd gathered everything we thought we would need for the week, paid and left our weekly deposit of imperishable foods in the large Food Bank container, we got everything into the trunk of the car and then it was that I remembered I'd forgotten a key ingredient for the casserole I was planning to make for tonight's dinner.

Back we went and I hurriedly picked up three good-sized zucchini, made my way to the cashiers and there were but two open as a reflection of how quiet the store was with far fewer shoppers than would be the norm. Just as I was making my way to the one Express cash open to be the fourth in line, a burly young man with a half-full shopping cart made a dash to cut me off, and there I was, three zucchini in hand.

I moved over to the only other cash open and there was a modest line-up, the last was an elderly couple with a half-full shopping cart. The cashier speedily processed the few people with their few purchases and then came the half-full cart, and I asked if the couple in front of me wouldn't mind if I went before them since I had only 'one' item to go through the cash, and they beamed in unison and graciously invited me to precede them.