We were both busy after breakfast doing our separate things. Me engrossed in housewifely preoccupations and he doing what men always seem to do best. After cleaning up from breakfast I began by baking a blueberry pie, using the wild blueberry contents of a frozen pouch, mixing the berries with sugar, cranberry juice and cornstarch to produce a juicy, flavourful pie for dessert. While I was about it, I raised some yeast and kneaded a simple bread dough, refrigerating it for use later in the week.

And then I put a chicken soup on to cook. The chicken used in making the soup, a leg and a thigh, will be used to top up the dog kibble that our puppies eat. I planned to bake a casserole where skinned, deboned chicken breast would be smothered in chopped bell pepper and tomatoes to be served alongside roasted potatoes and cauliflower. That done, a quick cleaning of bathroom, powder room, and some vacuuming.

As for my husband, he took his truck by prearranged appointment to get its underside oiled up for winter driving. It's a yearly investment he makes in the longevity of the vehicles he has owned over the years to ensure the body doesn't fall apart, rusted out from the roadsalt sprinkled on roads and highways throughout the driving-inclement winter months. The establishment he frequents make a temporary loaner available to their clients so they don't have to wait around.

So my husband ran a few errands, popping in to the bank for a withdrawal, stopping by the Great Canadian Superstore for one of their large cakes to feed a dozen, having it iced with the legend: 'From Jack and Jill', and drove it over to the veterinary clinic as an expression of our appreciation for their caring ministrations to our puppies during our appointment earlier in the week.

And then we took Jackie and Jillie out for a ramble in the ravine. Taking care to dress both them and ourselves extra-warmly, because it is extremely cold now. We had a low of -6C overnight and the high for today is to be 0C, but because it is also windy, the cold seeps right into everything and not being prepared for it is a fine recipe for misery.

Some of the snow that covered the trees and the forest floor yesterday has melted, but there's plenty still around. If we're lucky the weather will moderate and become milder, melting the rest of the snow. The creek looked ready to burst its banks yesterday when we were out for a short circuit, but it's gone down considerably now, though still high from the snow melt.

It's always pleasant and invigorating for all of us to be out and about in the forest. We haven't yet hauled our winter boots out, just wore our usual hiking boots and took a little extra care not to slip and side as we ascended and descended hills, and managed quite well. We did though need winter jackets, head coverings and mittens. And we put extra little wool sweaters under Jackie's and Jillie's lighter winter jackets to ensure they'd be comfortable as well.

Three-quarters of the way through our hike, we passed a middle-aged couple that we remembered having seen before on one occasion on the same trail. That recognition was occasioned by the fact that the woman retreated from Jillie's enthusiasm at seeing others on the trail. Jillie loves people but she also rushes toward them, barking her shrill greeting which most people recognize as harmless, but this woman visibly shrank from.

She warned us that she would kick Jillie. I told her our little dog is very vocal, but harmless, she simply gets excited when she sees people and wants to be recognized. Her companion said nothing as they moved past us and Jackie and Jillie fell in behind us. But it does leave a bad  taste, and makes one wonder how a grown woman of mature years could have so little sympathy for other creatures and in the process evince fright when confronted by a very small dog.

My husband advised, as we recall his doing on that previous occasion, that anyone fearful of dogs might want to avoid the ravine, since there are so many dogs about in it frequently, many of a size certain to terrify an emotionally immature individual. Soon afterward we came across an acquaintance with her dog, and described the encounter. She informed us that the man with the woman had been known to act out her threat. Takes all kinds....

So now that we know -- in the wake of our appointment at the veterinarian clinic yesterday morning with our two little dogs -- what has been ailing them, we feel reassured. Jillie's condition will heal quickly, she's a healthy little dog. The wound she sustained when an abscess burst in her left anal gland and became infected is now a temporary inconvenience in that it has begun to itch as it heals and she constantly licks it as dogs will do.

They're both on Medicam, once daily, and since Jillie weighs more than her brother, she gets the larger dose. The vet's intuition and putting our narrative of events together after he gave Jackie a thorough physical during his examination led to the impression that the disturbing pain he was experiencing that has caused him to behave so strangely out of character would respond well to the Medicam. Previously for a week he had been responding fairly well to another prescription used both to fight pain and to calm nerves -- before he had a relapse when we took him off the medication.

We've seen a change in him already, so something is working well. He actually asked to be taken out to the backyard this morning, where for the past several weeks he has avoided going out, and instead of voiding his urine, retains it for almost a full day before finally squatting, not lifting his leg as usual, to pass urine. That's a huge plus. He's also wanted to play, with his sister and with me. When I flung one of his toys he repeatedly retrieved it, excited and happy.

Once again this morning we awoke to fresh snow down on the ground and more falling. Heavily overcast, the sun came peeping out now and again for the briefest of intervals, radiating light off the snowy landscape. It was cold, seeming colder than the 0C registering on the thermometer, and the wind was brisk; a combination that felt even colder. We dressed our puppies and ourselves for winter and went out to the ravine for a short hike.

We've always found that dogs are intrigued with snow. It interests them, they like to play with it, to lick it, and they become accustomed to its presence; seeming puzzled when it finally departs in spring. Both Jackie and Jillie took care to walk along the forest trails where the snow had been undisturbed, preferring the snow to the soggy, wet foliage dumped on the forest floor where the snow had melted.

Their vet's advice was that he would prefer they take only short walks, then progressively working them back up to the longer walks they're accustomed to. And that Jackie be kept on leash. It's just what we did, happy to be out even briefly in the forest. The scenery is bright even though a twilight atmosphere prevails given the overhead clouds tight to the horizon.

The fairytale look of every branch of every tree well slathered with snow is hard to capture adequately in photographs, but the breathtaking view of the forest interior immersed in the season's first snow, as flurries gently descend is lovely beyond description.

Well, we've had quite the day today. Up early, wanting to get a quick hike through the forest trails on a short circuit before heading off to the veterinarian clinic with Jackie and Jillie for our 9:00 a.m. appointment. We'd be seeing a veterinarian we've trusted for well over twenty-five years. He looked after our two little poodles, Button and Riley. And now he's taking care of the second generation of poodles in our home.

The sun was just making its way over the tree tops when we prepared to exit the forest. And we'd see the sun off and on -- mostly off -- for the remainder of the day, taking turns with the low cloud ceiling of striated dark grey clouds. It was 0C when we set off at 7:00. We hadn't expected that it would snow. But snow it did, and there was a light layer over the trees to lighten the dreary aspect of late fall.

Jackie wasn't certain he wanted to be out and about. Jillie is a lot more laid back than her brother and though she was in some discomfort, she plodded along. Eventually Jackie became more interested and involved in our hike. And so did we, over the frozen leaf pack now tipped with snow and more slippery than ever, as we descended the entrance hill to the ravine. It's early for snow to fall here, though not unknown.

Usually, on Remembrance Day -- which isn't that far away, on the 11th of the month -- there are light snow flurries, and the children who sing in the choir of elementary school students usually shiver in the cold, the wind and the light snow dusting the atmosphere. Evidently snow began falling during the early morning hours to leave us with early winter's gift.

When we returned home, we showered and gave Jackie and Jillie their breakfast, then headed off to the veterinarian clinic. The waiting room had one other patient besides our two. We discussed the situation with both our puppies with Dr. Streib for it was an emergency vet, Dr. Ranger, who had examined Jackie a week and a  half earlier, and at that time Jillie's problem hadn't yet evinced itself.

After explaining to him what had occurred with Jackie, as he examined the notes left by Dr. Ranger, he commenced a physical examination. When he pressed against Jackie's sides, almost at his hips, Jackie reacted; clearly that pressure was uncomfortable enough to really bother him. Some medical deduction took place and he said it was his convinced opinion that Jackie had a sciatic nerve that was acting up, a not-uncommon problem with small dogs.

As for Jillie, a physical exam revealed that it was not impacted anal glands that troubled her, rather one of the anal glands had become infected. The abscess had burst and that accounted for the discomfort she was feeling. She was otherwise in good physical condition, just as Jackie's physical examination had revealed him to be. Jillie's wound needed to be disinfected and the gland cleaned out, so we left her in the doctor's care for a half-hour, and it was done.

Medicam was prescribed for both Jackie and Jillie. A kind of experiment, their doctor said for Jackie, to determine whether the painkiller would restore his usual equanimity, easing the discomfort of that nerve that had driven him to distraction. We feel immensely relieved to know the cause and the course of action to be taken with them, even while we feel how odd it is that both little fellows became ill at the same time, albeit with different ailments.

As a reward for their patience and perseverance during the lengthy appointment, they shared a scrambled egg between them as a treat, while we were finally eating our own breakfast. We have to take it easy with them for the next few days not to exercise them too vigorously. And we hope that we've found the solution to the dilemma that inflicted itself upon  Jackie.

The sky is darkly overcast. It's a windy day, but thankfully mild. It isn't destined to last; tonight the temperature will plunge to -9C. So we were grateful this morning that the weather has offered us a final day to finish tidying things up on our property for oncoming winter.

Although dark clouds kept sweeping across the grey sky, the rain has held off up to early afternoon. Before that, however, our first order of business was to gear ourselves up in rainjackets and get Jackie and Jillie out to the ravine for a trail hike. Jillie was willing, Jackie somewhat less so. They're both seeing the veterinarian that we now rely on to look after their health issues early tomorrow morning. Both are long overdue for cosmetic reasons, to get their hair groomed since the 'spa' where we take them that is connected to the veterinarian clinic was too booked up back in August to schedule them two months' hence as we usually arrange for them.

And we seem to have been hit with a double whammy this time; both our puppies could be feeling better. Jackie's mysterious illness is not resolving, though his symptoms are somewhat less alarming at this point. He remains far from normal behaviourwise, though his appetite remains pretty robust. Another thing we're grateful for is that they tend, both of them, to sleep soundly through the night, enabling us to do the same.

Yesterday Jillie suddenly came down with symptoms leading us to believe she may have impacted anal glands. Her rear end is suddenly very sensitive, and she has turned from an active little dog to a much more quiet one. Since they are both under the weather so to speak, we tend to pay far more attention to them, as though to reassure both them and ourselves that all will be well.

So out we went this morning. I kept Jackie on leash, and Jillie was free to wander alongside us over the sopping trail. The foliage littering the forest floor hasn't been colourful, crisp and dry for over a week, thanks to the incessant rain events. Everything is damp; the tree trunks themselves haven't had an opportunity to dry out between rain events, and appear dark and stark against the now-monotoned landscape.

We had been signalled by the weather; yesterday morning there was hard frost on all the roofs. The garden that had held out for so long was no more able to sustain life-and-bloom under such adverse weather conditions of impending winter entering in the wake of late fall.

After breakfast, my husband set out for the gardens. The annual fall emptying of the garden pots. I had earlier removed all the plants growing in the pots and urns, and now the really hard work of digging out the soil was his task. A difficult, time-consuming one, where the enriched soil that had encouraged the growth of annual flowers non-stop during spring and summer and early fall, would be excavated, piled into wheelbarrows-full and trundled over to the garden beds and borders.

The urns will be left in place where they have been permanently stationed since my husband designed and constructed the hardscaping of our garden about twenty years ago, excavating deep, replacing clay soil with gravel, then fine stone dust, and finally pavers and 'stone' blocks that he chiselled into shape to create the permanent beds and borders to be filled with garden soil, their contours faithful to our original, less formalized garden. The pots will be gathered together and covered with a protective tarp over winter, under our deck. 

I had joined him outside to complete my own tidying up, gathering up the last of the collapsed vegetation and again collecting massive amounts in compostable bags to add to the municipality's collection for their compost piles, in turn available to city residents who use the finished product for their home gardens, as well as the city's own use for compostable material for city parks. And pulling up and parking stakes and ornaments in the garden, for storage in the garden shed.

Jackie

Our ailing little puppies hunkered down on the sofa. We left the doors open so they could peer out at us from the glassed screen doors and know that we hadn't abandoned them entirely. As we worked, occasionally scrutinizing the sky in anticipation of oncoming rain, we watched one storm after another shuffle across the sky pushed by the atmospheric wind, none yet entering our zone to end our work before we were finished.

Jillie

We were both nine years old when the war ended. Not the Great War, the 'war to end all wars' of course, but the following one from 1939 to 1945. He was born in February of 1937 and I December 1936. We knew, of course, that something dreadful was happening in Europe even before 1945, when the war ended. There were rumours that circulated within the Jewish community, and there were dread confirmations.

Conversations meant to be mysteriously hidden from children, hushed when children were too curious and hesitated, waiting to hear more of whatever it was that made our parents' faces so grim and pale. Eventually, before the end of the war we knew some things, but certainly not all. We did know that Jews were somehow targeted. Of course even as children we were ourselves the targets in our school community of taunts and accusations of being a 'Christ-killer'. A puzzling charge we would bring home with us and ask our parents for an explanation.

So we certainly knew we were different. Different from most of the young people we went to school with. Different enough so that we sought each other out for companionship and comfort for there was much we shared. By age 14 we had become constant companions. Needless to say adolescence and the transition into early adulthood accompanied our relationship. When first I saw him I thought to myself that he was exactly the candidate I had been yearning for to be my best friend. I wasn't mistaken.

We both loved the out-of-doors, parks and forested areas, and would spend time together in nearby green spaces just being together, talking about things that young people find interesting. We seldom spoke of the war and that so many Jews had been sacrificed on the unappeasable alter of anti-Semitism. But it was always there. It shaped us in so many ways. How could it not, growing up in the shadow of the mass extermination of those who shared our ethnic identity, our universal culture, if not our religious belief, for we had none.

Believing in an almighty god just did not, to us, seem compatible with the horrendous, deliberate campaign to murder six million children, men and women of all ages that had been so hugely successful in its goal. No one in power who might have exerted influence and compassion to launch a campaign and rescue -- aside from the efforts of Jewish communities themselves, fairly helpless in their own vulnerability - stepped forward. Official Canada was supremely disinterested in absorbing any more Jews.

The MS St.Louis which set out from Hamburg on a mission to resettle its cargo of Jewish families when it appeared Cuba would take them, then refused, followed by Canada, the United States and others, an obvious example. Even the German captain's conscience was stricken at the plight of his passengers, hoping they might find haven. The world wasn't interested.

And then the war was over, news seeped out about the liberation of the death camps and the living souls more dead than alive who were taken to refugee camps to await their future. Surviving Jews, nostalgic for their homes returned to places in Europe where they had been transferred from to work- and death-camps, found themselves shunned, their property confiscated by their neighbours who threatened to finish what Nazi Germany had left undone. Suddenly, however, the world's conscience was stricken and countries that had formerly refused Jewish refugees found place for them, after all. Displaced persons began arriving in Canada, survivors of the unspeakable Holocaust.

He and I forged our life together, and married when we were 18. Long before that we found our entertainment alongside other  young people, attending dances, joining social clubs. He played football in high school, I played a trumpet, badly, in my school's band. The public library was a frequent destination for us, just as going to green spaces was. Once, I looked in the index of a library branch on Bloor Street that we frequented, and I saw the classification "Jews". The bald word struck me and I gagged. Why not, I said to him, "The Jewish People"? What dignity and respect was manifested to use an identifier that was so often hurled at us as a damning pejorative?

I recall running out of the library, he in close pursuit, begging me to stop, and when I did, I threw up on the sidewalk, my heart palpitating, weeping, as he held me close. He's never stopped holding me close.

Following on a week of heavy rain events and blustery-strong winds with night-time low temperatures flirting in the frost range, last night we had a hard frost. I've been procrastinating for weeks, unwilling to pull the plug on our garden. Many of the annuals, particularly the geraniums and the canna lilies, the petunias and the begonias have responded well to the cooler weather. They've been colourful and productive and beautiful, so I held back from harvesting them out of the many garden pots and urns.

As for the marigolds, the strawflowers, the gazanias and the zinnias, they too have been bearing up in the cooler temperatures that have brought rain, interspersed with ample sun. So I decided to leave them all as long as I possibly could. I did, bit by bit, cut back perennials and otherwise prepared the garden for its winter sleep, however. Even with an area as limited as ours, with the garden beds and borders, there is a lot of work to be done. In stages, bit by bit.

Back when the euonymus plants, the roses, rhododendrons and the magnolia trees were young, I used to cover them with winter gardening 'blankets' to ensure they were able to survive our harsh winter conditions. None of them any longer get protection from the cold, the snow and the icy winds and they do very well indeed; a vast number of magnolia buds are evident all winter long on the bared branches reaching now to the roof of the house. But there is still plenty of work in disassembling the garden.

I hadn't planned to finish up today. I'd emptied the pots in the backyard weeks ago of their annuals, but the greater number were in the front garden. But there was a heavy frost last night and what had looked presentable yesterday afternoon looked outright collapsed today. After breakfast I girded myself and set to the task, clearing out the garden and the garden pots.

The most stubborn to remove are the canna lilies and the dracaena; they become large and potbound and need to be dug out, sometimes taking the entire pot-full of soil in an oval ball of heavy proportions with them when they are finally lifted out.

I gradually filled four large-capacity compostable garden waste bags full of discarded annuals and cuttings of peony stalks, hydrangea canes, black-eyed Susans and hosta foliage. An hour into the endeavour I felt something wet falling and assumed the rain was starting up again. But I was wrong, it was snowing. So I continued working and finalized most of the job, ending with gathering up the fallen leaves to top off the bags with. Now, I've little left to do to complete the job, and should feel a sense of accomplishment.

Instead I feel a bit dreary about it all. All that texture, form, architecture and colour gone for another season. Winter will intervene, the garden will disappear under a deep layer of accumulated snowpack, not to be seen again until spring finally arrives some time in April.

Soon after I finished, and entered the house to relax, the snow stopped. The temperature had gradually risen from zero to 3C, and now it was rain that was descending once again. One of those 'just-in-time' events.

Thursday's weather made a complete hash out of Halloween night for area children. Both Ottawa and Montreal were in for some really wild weather. There was forceful winds gusting up to 80 km/hr and endless downpours. We had been able to get out briefly in the early daytime hours under threatening skies, but the wind was pretty high then too, and danger lurks in a forest with such strong wind gusts.

Jackie and Jillie don't much like the sound of roaring wind gusting through the forest canopy. It's not the swaying masts of trees clacking against one another that disturbs then, it's the locomotive-level, dense sound of the wind high above that alerts them to something quite unusual happening that they don't understand and therefore fear.

We had read that parts of Montreal had declared they would cancel out Thursday night for trick-or-treating, and children would be invited to go out on Friday when the weather was expected to improve somewhat, as a precautionary measure to ensure safety on the dark, wet streets with rain pouring down and wind blasting everywhere.

That didn't happen in Ottawa. Halloween was on for Thursday night. We decided to have dinner a little earlier than usual, to try to beat the rush at the door. Surprisingly, we had our salad without interruption, then our fish and (oven-baked) chips, and finally our mango dessert and not once did the doorbell ring. When we were finishing up our tea, that's when the first of the excited and costumed children finally came around.

My husband was prepared for them. All the little chocolate bars had been poured into a huge bowl and sat awaiting their arrival and treat-disbursement. He sat on one of the bottom stairs, a book handy to keep him entertained between rushes, and from six until eight he manned the barricades. Mostly they arrived in little crowds, a familiar spectacle to my husband whose 'job' it is to greet Halloweeners at the door. He always does. We usually have about a hundred children come to ring the bell or knock on the storm door; the other door wide open, porch lights blazing.

Last night there was half that number that determinedly came out, defying the wind and the rain, hauling their utterly soaked pillowslips full of goodies. One man was dressed as a drenched lion with a long dangling tail, his 3-year-old son perched on his soldiers dressed as a lion cub, the child's head bobbing down as he kept falling asleep.

Some mothers accompanied their children to the porch and sternly reminded them to say 'thank you!' if excitement at the event stole their manners. But as my husband informed me later he's never seen so many well-behaved and courteous children, of all ages, who shyly spoke the magical 'trick or treat!', and immediately followed up with a shy-sounding 'thank you!', departing to the next house.


That everyone who went out got thoroughly soaked was an understatement.

I ventured out for the briefest of moments later, around half-past nine with Jackie and the rain had almost stopped but the wind remained, snarling through the atmosphere. And this morning again when I went out with him, the wind was whipping trees back and forth, but instead of rain what was falling was sleet, in reflection of the cold temperature higher in the atmosphere, but around 3C at street level.