We really were taken by surprise this morning when we came downstairs for breakfast to see a white whirlwind unfolding before our eyes. The wind was up and it was snowing. How long it was snowing was beyond us, but there was a bit of an accumulation. It was also just at the freezing mark, so mild. What could be more perfect than a winter-white landscape? It's something we just cannot get tired of looking at.

So, our son gathered  his ski equipment and off he went to the ravine for an early ski run. The snow was not light and fluffy, somewhat wet but snow nonetheless, of a more sticky, packing-type we're familiar enough with. He was back, it seemed in no time, and then set about shovelling. Jackie was busy too, avidly viewing a little black squirrel on the porch, doing its best to pack away as many peanuts as it could.

All of us went out together later on to enjoy a superlative hike through the newly-snowed woods. Unlike the day before we came across almost no one else; a couple walking their dog, and a single fellow walking his, while we also saw someone on a mountain bike with puffy all-weather tires zipping through the trails.

Our son was on skis again, accompanying us, but in the process covering four times as much snow-laden ground as we did. He'd go down one  hill, make his way back up, descend again and haul himself back up in the time it took us to even get to the starting point. Jackie and Jillie are now well accustomed to seeing him on skis, unlike when they were puppies and ran helter-skelter, barking furiously after him.

The snow, soft and fresh, cushioned our boots and we found ascents and descents decent enough; not as much slipping as the day before, without the fresh snow. Everywhere we looked was a fairyland, a wonderland of snow-dusted trees. Halfway through our hike, despite that it was still snowing, the sun made a few brief, wan appearances.

The wind sent tree tops waving and touching against each others' spires. We saw crows flying about, coasting on the wind, no doubt enjoying the effortless ride. Clumps of snow kept falling from over-laden branches and from time to time a gust of wind would release a great cloud of snow from its perch on the forest canopy, creating a brief white-out.

We saw an odd sight as we trooped along the trails, when my side-vision caught a strange looking object about six yards into the forest interior, when I noticed, hanging from an understory tree there was a grey ovoid of fair size. My son had happened to see it at about the same time; he had followed the trajectory of my gaze as I stopped momentarily and swivelled my head to the side, uncertain at first what the object was. A wasp's nest, nothing less. Not the first time we've seen one in the woods. It would never be seen in summer; only winter could reveal its presence with an absence of foliage to hide it.

Snow kept up for much of the day, despite which the mild temperature ensured that it would also continue melting. Although evergreen boughs were bent low with the weight of the snow, elsewhere, on the banks of the creek it was steadily melting, and the creek continued its roiling, muddy journey downstream -- practising an eternal ritual in the transition from winter to spring.

Another overcast, temperature-mild day of melting snow and the creek running deep and turbulently, the ascents and descents in the ravine becoming slippery with their glaze of melting snow. But it was also a day of interesting interaction in the ravine. With quite a few people out and about, taking advantage in the community surrounding the forest of its invitation for a long and leisurely stroll through the forest pathways, it was inevitable we would come across people we've long known and care about.

First off was a friend who had good news that his heart condition remained unchanged from his last check-up. That good news had a quite evident impact on our friend; although he is the type of person who always makes an effort to be cheerful and fun to be around. Anyone who knew him could sense the difference in his attitude. We'd seen him last a week earlier, and his health problems, primarily back and leg pain, were beginning to depress him. To have good news for a change turned him right around; his cheeriness was authentic now, his back straighter, his head higher, the jocular manner we're familiar with returned with full-gale force.

His dog, an old Rottweiler who patiently puts up with our two little dogs' antics, settled down for a cooling rest in the snow, while his human brought us up to date on ravine news we'd missed. One of the three Border Collies, he told us, had been bitten by a coyote, and the veterinarian bill was a modest but necessary $400. We'd spoken with one of the three dogs' humans about the potential for coyote interaction, given the frequency of sightings just a few days earlier, and he was confident he'd have no problems, the three dogs are reassuringly obedient to his command.

Soon afterward we were introduced to the presence in the ravine of a new little puppy being walked there for the first time. All of three months old, a miniature schnauzer with long black silky hair and an obvious love affair with life ran circles around Jackie and Jillie, leaping for joy, taking turns snuggling into each of them and then challenging them to a run-and-tussle. We'd never seen the puppy nor the two women walking her before, and even they had breathless news of the coyotes, telling us that last Sunday which we recall being rife with walkers on a lovely day, had its coyote moments, too.

And then we came across Sheila with the three Border Collies and she gave us the details. That Carter, from the same litter as their other two, but 'rescued' by them from their daughter who had four very young children and was unable to look after a dog too, and needing to be nurtured and trained because of sad neglect, had suddenly run off after a coyote. Barrie had seen the coyote, thought it was a dog, called Carter back, and for the first time Carter disobeyed, running after the animal, and then out of sight.

Barrie heard a 'yelp', thought to himself that Carter had frightened off a coyote, and felt proud of its courage, though disturbed at his disobedience. But it wasn't the coyote that had yelped, it was Carter. Once the dog finally returned to take his place beside his brother and sister, Barrie had given him a perfunctory physical examination, and had seen nothing amiss. Back home, Sheila and Barrie noticed Carter doing gymnastics trying to lick an area on his side, and discovered a raw wound.

And so it goes, the drama, misadventure and excitement of the established presence of coyotes making their home in the ravine. Making it more than obvious that we won't be taking Jackie and Jillie off leash again any time soon.  In this interaction it wasn't the coyote on a hunting mission that began the ensuing fight, but a dog instinctively running after a coyote, perhaps to ward off an attack against his human -- and the coyote merely defended itself.

A flock of redpolls passed through our snowy backyard this morning. The neighbourhood-resident cardinals were up early, pleased with the dawn of another mild-weather day and trilling their appreciation. Overnight it was so mild that the rest of the snow remaining on the metal canopy over our deck from last week's snowfall, melted. Although the snowpack remains high we can imagine it is diminishing and will continue to as long as this weather holds out.

Of course, it's inevitable that as the month proceeds we're moving closer to spring. The occasional backtracking to icy cold temperatures and high winds does leave a bit of doubt in our minds, but that's quick to evaporate once we arrive at a spate of days like today's. Episodically, there's sunshine and overcast; seemingly sparring conditions.

Originally the forecast was for mixed precipitation but it doesn't appear that this is about to happen, at this juncture. The wind believes it should remain in winter mode, and gusts sharply, obviously trying to make the most of the winter atmosphere. When we exited the ravine this early afternoon after a prolonged hiking circuit through the forest trails, it gusted aggressively as we moved through a corridor and out of the forest; thick stand of trees on our right, the side of the adjacent house before the ravine entrance on the left.

Our boots now sink into the snow, the cleats on their platform hauled over the soles digging deep into the softened snowpack on the trails. There's a tendency to slip as we ascend and descend the hills so it takes a bit more of an effort. Even Jackie and Jillie have taken to slipping, wearing their tiny rubber boots. On our way up the street to attain the ravine entrance, we slopped through ice-and-snow-packed ruts on the road beginning to puddle.

This day is absolutely beguiling, calling out to be enjoyed, and we had every intention of responding. Jackie and Jillie know when I'm finished doing housework for the morning and follow me excitedly, anticipating the next moves to be involved with preparations to get out into the woods. It's a ritual no doubt reflected in many households in our community adjacent the ravined forest.

As testament to the value of our good fortune in the natural geology of our region, we weren't the only ones out on the trails this afternoon. Actually two of the people we came across separately were dog walkers, one with three dogs in her care, and the second with seven in his care. We've seen him and his borrowed pack often this year, all well-behaved, but the three were a new introduction for us.

One woman happened to be walking with a puppy, newly introduced to the ravine environment and being socialized. Since most mature dogs don't particularly care to be in the presence of lively, impudent young puppies this little fellow, a female Australian Shepherd eager to be introduced to the social scene and enthusiastic, had the misfortune to come across a large dog that had to be restrained for its hostility to the youngster; that was one of the three dogs in the care of the dog walker.

In contrast to that puppy's introduction to the varied mix of personalities she'll come across through the course of her life, was the very small and elderly terrier we've seen on occasion, determined to enjoy her course through the ravine trails, disinterested in sharing experiences with any other, and trotting along contentedly beside her human.

We noticed yesterday afternoon while driving through an industrial area en route to the airport, there was a real convocation of crows; perhaps not quite yet a murder. Crows were lofting through the heavily overcast sky, and when we passed a nearby forested area they were perched everywhere on the leaf-bare treetops adjoining the highway corridor. It's not unusual, for some reason, to frequently see hordes of crows in certain areas. They're fascinating to watch. Just like blackbirds in a mass coordinated flight, or pigeons sitting by the dozen on an overhead wire, a neat, even space between each one.

We did notice, in the last few weeks that crows had begun to return to the ravine. Nowhere near the numbers we had seen yesterday, but in little familiar packs. We see them flying over the rooftops, and over the forest canopy. When I used to put out unshelled peanuts regularly throughout the ravine trails in quite specific areas, squirrels became so accustomed to the daily offerings we'd sometimes find them stationed in those places, awaiting our routine walk and deposit.

We'd also see crows following us then alighting to take possession of peanuts left behind. They're so incredibly intelligent, we'd watch as a crow would pick up a peanut, then with it in its beak, bang it down hard on a rock or a log to crack it open and retrieve the treasure inside. We no longer carry peanuts into the ravine. Now we buy natural peanuts already shelled and put them out daily in little piles at the front and at the side of the house. Squirrels, juncos, chickadees and crows come by to claim their portions on a regular basis, entertaining Jackie no end. Jillie pays them no mind.

So, out in the forest this afternoon we watched crows soaring overhead and heard their distant mob cries. Often that's a signal that an owl is about perching somewhere being harassed by the crows. We've never known them to do that to a pileated woodpecker, though once we saw a cardinal being circled by cursing, cackling crows, not just an owl.

It's a mild day, following on an earlier mild-temperature day. Which gave us some light rain yesterday afternoon and evening. Both the temperature and the rain served to eliminate the snow that had been sifted onto the trees in the forest by last week's snowstorm. The snowpack is beginning to melt on the forest floor, and the creek at the bottom of the ravine is running wide and deep and muddy and loud.

It's early days yet, but spring is most definitely in the air. On one of the side trails, Jackie suddenly stopped and began barking and growling. Jillie caught up to him and joined the fuss. We could see nothing that might have arrested their attention, looking into the forest. Nothing moved. With all the snow it's easy enough to detect an animal on the move, but there was nothing. Which doesn't rule out the possibility that they could detect quite easily with their finer-tuned senses what we could not. Perhaps the presence of a coyote. But it passed, and so did we.

It was pleasant to be in the snowy woods, as usual, and even more so that it was so mild, just touching on freezing at 0C, that we were quite comfortable. Good footing on the ascents and descents. And the entire forested ravine to ourselves. On rare occasions the atmosphere is such that an eerie sound reaches us. Not quite eerie, perhaps more nostalgic than anything. Today, the sound of a train horn wafted into the forest, faint but unmistakable. We hear it, like a ghost of the past on rare occasions. There are no train tracks nearby.

Soon after our return home we left the puppiest alone, disconsolate that we would do such a cruel thing to them, and went out to do the weekly supermarket shopping. From the newspapers we'd read earlier in the morning, with updates on the COVID-19 virus epidemic, it seems that in various places shelves have been ransacked of their goods. Particularly so with non-perishable items, paper products, and hygiene products. Panic is beginning to set in, here and there. Helped along no little bit by public health authorities who offer cautions and advice, and tell people to stock up on food staples and prescription medications.

Always having a measure of non-perishable food items on standby is never a bad idea and people should, if they can, do that regularly. But stocking up on prescription drugs is illegal and therefore not possible. Taking a prescription to a pharmacy will ensure that a month's supply or so is meted out on a regular basis; no pharmacist, by law, will honour a request by anyone to release a larger measure of drugs when the pharmacy's records show that there is still have enough of a client's medication left to obviate the need to secure more.

What a difference a day makes. At least, if you're thinking Sunday versus Monday. We'd encountered so many people out hiking through the ravine trails yesterday afternoon we were quite amazed. An unusually large number, not often come across. Today, on the other hand, people are back to work, their children at school. And there's couldn't be a more absolutely perfect day to be in the woods with Jackie and Jillie than today.

For one thing, though we missed the sun, it was a lot warmer, and what little wind there was was just fine. For another, we had a small overnight shower of light snow, about three cm altogether. Not much as snowfalls go, but a delicate, light and airy coverlet sitting atop the snow already accumulated, and beautiful to look at, covering the forest trees.

As we walked up the street toward the ravine entrance, walking down toward us was two of our long-time neighbours, a husband and wife now both retired, their two boys having left to forge out on their own long since. They like to keep active. In the summer they do a lot of bicycling. In the winter they take walks around the neighbourhood, visit local supermarkets to do a little shopping to carry back home.

He happens to be fixated on things we're far more casual about. He carefully shovels and scraps every last vestige of snow and ice off his driveway; the only one on the street minus a buildup of ice. In the summer he's endlessly washing their vehicles, manicuring their lawn. Different folks, different options. They're very pleasant people and that's important.

I believe we've seen them once in the ravine in all the years we've known them, though their house is closer to it than ours is. They made mention of how awkward it is to walk along the road now (in the absence of a sidewalk on our street), uneven, bumpy, piled firmly with compressed snow and ice, and we agreed, telling them how much more pleasant and easier it is to tramp along the forest trails in the ravine.

Off we went our separate ways, accommodating ourselves to our preferences. In the ravine, wind was whisking light skeins of newfallen snow off boughs, resulting in that mystical ectoplasmic look that always captures attention. Not Jackie and Jillie's attention; their noses are firmly pointed downward, sniffing and snuffling along at the forest floor steeped in snow, occasionally lifting their heads in response to anomalous sounds and smells lost to our less acute human faculties.

Snow has reached a good height. Yet we know there's more to come. In fact, the month of March can be expected annually to give us a good one-third of the season's total snowfall. The temperature rose today, so it's 0C, very pleasant indeed, albeit overcast, and the forecast is (gloom) for rain at some time later in the day. Which we'd prefer didn't occur just yet, though we'd gone early to the ravine to bypass just such a turn in the weather.

The height of the snow can be judged in looking at some old giant fallen pines that in their state of endless decomposition fall across chasms in the ravine that the bridges ford, elsewhere than the position of the creek. And there, the height of snow piled atop the old trunks look as though they give those old dead trees three times the circumference of their actual size.

It's also difficult not to notice that in the previous, quite wet snowfall that left 20cm of snow, a northeasterly wind had blown the snow westerly, the result being snow plastered firmly on the northeast facing trunks of trees. Look to your left and the trees have a broad stripe of snow slathered on them; look to the right and they're free of snow, unless you peer around at the other side.

So, we had a long and leisurely stroll through the forest trails earlier today, and came across no one else at all. Which isn't to say that others haven't been out and about. The condition of the trail after a new snowfall such as we had last night informs us that others have been out at times earlier than we were, the indentations of their boots on the once-pristine surface ample evidence.

Quite a number of people in  the wider community weren't able to resist a late-winter tramp in the snowy woods today. Conditions couldn't have been more inviting. Snow remains in huge clumps on the trees, looking as though nature had invited a gigantic snowball fight. A peculiarity of mixed conditions a few days back when we experienced a large snowstorm.

There were intervals of snow of varying moisture conditions; large fluffed flakes and light and airy clumps, alternating with freezing rain, ice pellets, then snow again. It was the high moisture content that caused the snow-ball look of the landscape three days after the storm. In the interim there had been a change in the temperature from just hovering on freezing at 0C, to a night-time dip of -15 with daytime highs of -6 and -8C.

Those colder temperatures were accompanied by rough wind gusts making for a somewhat uncomfortable environment. But today, the high at -6 with little wind and full sun has made quite a difference. The air becalmed and warming in the full glare of a late winter sun along with the snowy landscape was just irresistible.

So we encountered lots of people out and plenty of companion dogs, some familiar, most not. There was a group of young people walking three dogs, a bull mastiff and two very large and muscular German pinschers. Monster dogs, really, with deep barrel chests, long, lean legs, small heads and ears cropped really oddly, almost resembling the sinister appearance of horns. Of course Jackie and Jillie are always quick to announce their presence.

The bull mastiff looked a little disconcerted and hurried by our two little yappers. The pinschers looked uncertain, even slightly overwhelmed by all the racket. They sidled past us as well, as we held our pups' leashes short and chided them. My husband has a habit of greeting all dogs with a soft-voiced friendly 'hello, puppy', irrespective of their size. His tone of voice seems to be reassuring to them. There are times when I have to wheedle dogs, large and small, to come forward and not be alarmed over the sounds emitting from our two toy poodles.

We do often come across other dogs that our two don't react to in a hostile manner. Like the poodle mix with a blonde coat of  hair and an eye-catching chartreuse winter coat we later saw. The three got on just fine together, keeping each other company for as long as it took for the dog's human to finally catch up and continue along with his dog. With so much activity of people moving through the forest trails today it's doubtful any of the coyotes felt disposed to make a presence.

We came across one fellow with a high-powered camera, taking his time with photographs, aiming his camera high on a group of tall old pines. His patience paid off handsomely. He showed me a perfect photograph of a pileated woodpecker. The bird was so high and so distant I was unable to see it with my naked eye, but he could, and used his camera's zoom lens to good purpose.

We're anticipating 'company' tomorrow, planning to pick up our youngest son at the airport late afternoon. He has another conference to attend, and he'll be staying with us rather than at the hotel where the conference is taking place. With luck, we'll have snow again while he's still with us, giving him the opportunity to get some skiing in, aside from ambling along the trails with us on occasion.