Our younger son had rented a cabin for three days in the remote town of Port Renfrew on the weekend. He decided to leave Vancouver for a few days so he went over to Vancouver Island and drove out to the south of the west coast of the island after having a rented a cabin on line. He's been there before for hikes and camping out but the weather is much too cold even there now for outdoor camping. There are a handful of privately-owned cabins used in the summer by their owners, and who rent them out in the winter months. He rented one of the smaller unheated cabins; a bedroom, full kitchen, sitting room at $200 each night.

Some of his day hikes were lengthy enough that by the time he'd return to the cabin the early dark of night had fallen. One night on his way back he spotted a small octopus just under and around a submerged ledge, feeling around with its tentacles while tiny fish came shooting out from beneath. He was wearing a headlamp, but the octopus didn't seem to mind the light, it just kept going about his business. He saw some large, lumbering sea lions as well, relaxing in their element.

As for us, deprived of our daily ramble through the forested ravine we visit every afternoon, we wondered what kind of conditions would await us today. Had we gone into the ravine early enough yesterday morning, say 7:00 a.m., we would have been in a winter wonderland, since overnight snow fell bountifully up until 4:00 and undoubtedly everything was plush-deep in snow. 20 cm creates quite a cushiony depth of snow, but it's also tough slogging through it for any length of time. 

We figured, seeing the snow first thing in the morning, that we had plenty of time to get out and enjoy the sparkling-white-refreshed landscape, that others will have gone onto the trails before us, breaking trail and producing the beginning of a passable winter-snow trail. We hadn't figured on the thermometer rising quickly and encouraging freezing rain with a full day of rain to follow. It rained, heavily, until 7:00 p.m. No hike for us yesterday.

Irving had the foresight born of long experience, to clamp cleats over our winter boots this morning before we set off with Jackie and Jillie. They were wearing their own little boots against the icy cold of -6, made even chillier by a 20 kmh wind. We weren't prepared as it happened even so, to encounter a skating rink on our way up the street to the ravine entrance. The entire street was a solid sheet of ice. Nothing surprising there given the rain and the succeeding drop in temperature leading to a flash-freeze.

At the path leading from the street to the trail Irving slipped and tumbled over. Warning of what lay ahead. Jackie and Jillie, missing yesterday's hike, were anxious to be let off leash so they could scramble off and wander at will ahead of us. They weren't experiencing any difficulties, but we were. It was obvious that people had been out with their dogs yesterday even in the pouring rain, because big dogs really need their outings to exhaust some of their energy levels.

Wherever someone trod piercing the thick layer of snow, the rain had made a deep depression and the flash-freeze conditions froze that depression to solid ice. We had to evade those icy depressions because they're utterly balance-destabilizing ... hence the fall. Instead we sought out areas that had been untouched, which means snow that hadn't been trod on. Our boots sinking into the snow gave us traction and good balance, but locomotion on a surface that boots sink into with each step takes a toll in energy.

We were taken off guard. And really surprised to see how much snow managed to survive the rain. All the trees of the forest were devoid of snow for the most part, melted in the 6C temperature that brought rain yesterday. But the forest floor remained well covered and that was a visually aesthetic relief, since before the snow arrived the landscape looked quite dreary; an overwhelming late-fall scene of bare branches and a forest canopy that appeared sere and dry. 

Taken together with shorter and darker days, with a perpetual dusk atmosphere within the forest, it becomes a sombre landscape. Snow has brightened it considerably, at the very least. And when the snow is newfallen, bright, light and sparkling, it is indeed a winter wonderland.

What a weather roller-coaster today has been. Bad enough that when I woke it was to discover Irving was nowhere in sight. I hadn't felt or heard anything when he went downstairs this morning. By 7:30 he was out in the backyard shovelling the walkways. Do most people shovel snow off their backyard walkways? Only people who foster little dogs, I'll warrant. When I finally found myself awake and confused, down I went, Jackie and Jillie in tow, to let them out to the back so they could join Irving as he finished up the last of the shovelling. A just-in-time event.

The snow was piled fairly high, we judged about 20 cm, with a thin crust of ice over top. It wasn't the slight layer of light fluff I shovelled in the backyard yesterday. This was some serious shovelling. I urged Irving back into the house; the porch and front walkway could wait. Breakfast first. I found myself taking eggs out of the refrigerator, then remembered I'd planned to make rice pudding for breakfast this morning.

As we sat at breakfast taking our time, we realized that it was raining. Soon after breakfast I went out with Jackie and Jillie and we were being treated to steady freezing rain. But the temperature was rising and before long the rain picked up, no longer dropping liquid ice but heavy rain battering the windows, the snow piled on the roofs of the garden shed and the light metal roof of the deck canopy. This snow evidently wasn't meant to last.

In fact, as the day wore on, the rain was relentless as it ate away at the snow. Jillie hates the rain, but natural urges brought her back out to the backyard where she couldn't find a dry spot for herself to position over, and the rain kept annoying her. She remembered the snowpack from previous winters, hard enough eventually so she could walk on the accumulated snow, and dry enough to be comfortable where she would squat. The walkways were clean of snow, but wet and she didn't consider them squat-worthy. Instead she kept trying to position herself on the snow and to her consternation kept sinking into the soft, melting stuff. Life can be so confusing when you're a little dog and certainties suddenly evaporate.

No chance for us to get out at all, unless we hankered to be lashed with frigid rain, while still having to struggle with piles of slushy snow underfoot in a 4C atmosphere of rainfog. Which was all right, we had plenty to do in the  house to keep us absorbed and busy. Not so much Jackie and Jillie, restive as always when we embark on a  house-cleaning spree.

I decided in the face of 'this kind of day' to make a comfort meal for dinner and started off by poaching pears for dessert. I pre-cooked beets with the intention of slipping them out of their skins in the preparation of Harvard beets to accompany the chicken-mushroom stew over couscous I planned for dinner. Little did I know when I picked up the bag of little beets at the supermarket with winter meals in mind that these were radicalized beets. Beets with  mind of their own and as such they refused to part with their skin to allow me to slice them into even little circles. Who did I think I was, anyway?

One never knows when dissent may be facing you despite the most mundane of plans going awry. Who ever heard of renegade beets? Eventually the deed was done and with spare time on my hands I set out to harass Jackie and Jillie a bit. Camera-wise, that is. For some peculiar reason they're suspicious of the camera, of my leaning over toward them with that devilish device. Intruding on their space, so to speak. 

By four o'clock it had long become obvious the rain wasn't intending to stop any time soon. Getting out for a hike through the ravine completely unfeasible. Not only was the rain continuing, but by then it was also dark. We resigned ourselves to lounging about, doing some reading in our warm, comfortable house. And our puppies thoroughly approved as they set about getting in our faces.

 

Notch up another cold day on the way to winter. We had to change the batteries in our electronic thermometers, one sitting in the backyard, the other at the front of the house. In the morning both read -8C, but by afternoon both pooped out, the batteries exhausted. The light snow that fell yesterday morning amounted to no more than 4.4cm, but the snow removal company we contract with decided to come out and clear off the driveways even though the contract argues that they'll come out only for a minimum of 5cm. There are three such companies doing business on the street; the one we contract with offers a rate break for seniors and it has the most business on the street.

 

That leaves us to shovel the capacious front walkways and the ones in the backyard. When light snow falls, shovels are fine; when a snowfall goes well beyond a dusting Irving hauls out his snow thrower for the occasion. Our neighbours to the right last year conceived the notion that they would take it upon themselves to shovel out our front walkways. We had no idea at first what was happening, and thought it might be the snow removal company, but we only contract for the driveway, not the walkways.

 

And then we discovered it was our neighbours shovelling us out. We thanked them, and expostulated that we're still able to handle it, but they kept insisting all last winter. It'll be interesting to see whether they feel the need to do the same this winter. We've been neighbours for thirty years, have always been comfortable with one another, but hardly feel we need to impose ourselves on them. On the other hand, it does make you feel grateful to have such thoughtful people living next door.

Preparing to get out with Jackie and Jillie for our usual ravine hike this afternoon and taking our cue from the cold prevailing with light wind and a low, white overcast sealing the sky over the landscape, we dressed in layers underneath our winter jackets. And brought out the little rubber booties that have turned out to be the most reliable for the puppies' tiny feet hitting loose snow on freezing days; unlike the cumbersome mukluck-(muttluks) that make them uncomfortable and tend to fall off in the snow, these remain reliably in place, sheltering their little paws from the cold.

 

When we brought them back from our ravine hike yesterday their feet were covered in hard little iceballs, and they were absent today, unable to stuck to the rubber boots, though there were a few on the hair above their paws. Yesterday we had to gently pry iceballs out of interstices between their pads, which were making them dreadfully uncomfortable while we were out on the trails. Today, no issues at all with the boots.

The creek is now running full, clear and icy. Though we saw no dogs in it today, those that are accustomed to dunking into the creek as a treat when they rush off and away from their humans to dash down from the forest heights into the ravine, continue to do so. How they withstand the frigid water in the winter atmosphere is beyond us. We're just happy J&J have no interest in following suit.

It's at this time of year when we're in the forest that there is little distinction in colour between the sky and the forest floor, covered with snow. It's as though each reflects the other. On such days when the sun hides behind a low cloud cover and the atmosphere smells of impending snow, there is an even monotone of silvery-white in the sky that is a mirror-image of the landscape below, smothered in snow. The quintessential winter landscape.

Now that the light ambience in our family room has been improved, Irving is busy doing the same with our bedroom. For the past fifty years or so home-builders have bypassed quite a few things we take for granted; no longer does the electrical work in a house include a central ceiling fixture. There was no such lapse when we bought our first little semi-detached bungalow in Richmond Hill north of Toronto in 1957 for $11,500 although despite houses then being built wrap-around brick, not just as a facade, the building code back then didn't include adequately weather-proofing homes as it does now. I can remember seeing frost high up on the inner bedroom walls under the ceiling in winter.

Yesterday, Irving installed the roundel anchoring the new light fixture he'll be putting together like a jigsaw puzzle. The scaffolding under the roundel is hung, and now the patience to put all the bits and pieces in place will be the next challenge. A ceiling fixture will go far in our bedroom to offer more light than the current three table lamps provide.

Outside the house it's a quite a bit brighter now, too. It was still sere and grey looking as we came downstairs for breakfast this morning, and then suddenly all those white clouds let loose and snow began descending in great rapid fluffs. The snowsquall didn't last long but it did leave an impressive amount of snow for such a short spurt of heavenly activity. I shovelled the pathways in the backyard for the first time this season. Not the least bit difficult since the four inches were pure, light fluff.

Irving removed all the summer mats we have down at the house entrances and replaced them with the winter-weight-and-sized alternatives. And he dug up our winter boots that we will exchange for our hiking boots. 

Jackie and Jillie whipped about the backyard in a frenzy of discovery, the snow spraying out in all directions under their prancing little paws. Of course when they re-entered the house the snow was stuck halfway up their scrawny little legs, so a good run-down was needed before they embarked on yet another mad rush-about in the house.

We were surprised at the depth of the snow in the driveway. Not quite enough for the snow removal crew to come along and tractor it all out. Irving just swept the porch of snow, so he could put out more peanuts for the squirrels. We decided, at -5C, with no wind, that we could gamble Jackie and Jillie could weather the cold-plus-fresh-snow without boots today. That's just on the cusp of what their tiny paws can take without discomfort.

The sun was emerging behind the clouds by the time we all got dressed and prepared to leave for the ravine. Halfway through the trails this afternoon we realized there was more blue sky than cloud and the sun had fully emerged. Traction was good on the trails, others had been out before us, breaking trail. There were skiers and bicyclists, and hikers out at some earlier point, to tamp the snow down nicely. We experienced no difficulty either in ascending or descending the hills.

Occasionally, toward the end of our circuit, Jackie and Jillie lifted a leg, and we removed iceballs that had built under their paws, then they carried on without problems. Not many people were out when we were, and we had no trouble imagining a frenzy of Christmas shopping at all the malls. The forest was a peaceful cathedral of snow-slathered trees, the canopy well draped in a glitter of soft white opacity. 

Age contrasts present themselves in abundance. You can tell a young dog, say just reaching a year, by its robust enthusiasm and energy to spare. Older dogs tend to distance themselves from the obstreperous puppies, they don't relish being harassed and begged to play. They'll ignore them or exhibit a bit of temper to drive the message home. Could be some mature dogs find the antics of the young amusing, who knows?

When we were out this afternoon in the ravine with Jackie and Jillie before we wound up our circuit on what has been an icy-cold day with the temperature reaching no more than -5C, exacerbated miserably by the probing fingers of a rude and blustery wind, we met up with a youngish man we've seen often, and with him for the first time, along with his springer spaniel were his two children.

A little boy around ten and his younger sister. The little boy was blase about the cold, jacket completely unzipped and open, the better to display his oversized Montreal Canadiens hockey jersey, its flaming red against the sere, dull, background of the late fall forest shouting to the world at large: "Hey, look here, aren't I COOL!? 

And nor did his little sister appear to feel the cold, though her jacket was zipped up tightly to her throat. Mittens in hand, she juggled them along with a little bag of edibles, her little bare hands occasionally shaking something I couldn't make out, out of the packet and popping it into her mouth. Jackie was curious, trying to make out just what she was eating, leaning on her legs, waiting to be offered a treat.

The little boy had two bright green tennis balls in his hands and was lobbing them off, one after another for the spaniel, more than equal to the task. Leaping like a boomerang after the balls to retrieve them and bring them directly back for another throw. Little boys get bored with repetitive action far more quickly than expectant little dogs, so while Irving and his father were deep in discussion, the little boy wagered with his dog that he could win a race between the two. Not even close.

Earlier, in the morning, while Irving was busy measuring and doing the mysterious things that men engage in when they've got a mission to complete, I decided to bake a cheesecake for dinner dessert. And then I remembered I'd bought a pint of blueberries, and I thought why not a blueberry-glazed cheesecake? So that's what we've got for tonight. And a few times after tonight, since we cannot possibly eat all the luscious cream-cheese and white-chocolate ingredient-blend in one sitting.

Each time I went out to the backyard with Jackie and Jillie, Jackie challenged me to a race, come to think of it, as he often does, crouching low, tail like a metronome, waiting for my response. He's the racer, I'm the cheerleader. Eventually he gets the message, and then he and Jillie have a frantic run-about, under the deck, over to and around the garden sheds, up the deck stairs where the race turns into a boxing match.

But we did decide eventually to get out for a hike. It had been sunny all day, which did little to mitigate the ferociously icy wind and the bone-chilling cold. Even dressing with care, ensuring there are layers and putting on the thickest of turtle-necks and my windproof, down-filled winter jacket, it didn't take long in outdoor exposure on our way to the ravine to feel the cold too close for comfort, actually penetrating my defensive clothing.

I wore no iconic sweater I was anxious to reveal to the stolid, dark forest giants, so I kept my zipper up close to my chin, and shivered.

It's December, though not yet officially winter -- not for another three weeks will we be introduced to the shortest day of the year, and nights are really cold -- so time to oust the intermediate duvet on our bed and haul out the winter-weight one. The one that's light and puffed and warmly luxurious in its guarantees for a good night's sleep. 

Irving just happened to be upstairs in our bedroom, using his stud-finder to begin the work he set for himself to hang a light fixture from our bedroom ceiling. So he helped me fit the duvet into its cover, both of us flipping and waving the duvet into its cover until it was properly spread. Takes a bit of energy to get it done right.

Jackie and Jillie as usual were nosing about wondering what all the fuss was about. Mostly it was they who were fussing, having a shrill barking fit when Irving brought up a ladder from the basement, and every time he moved it about, upstairs. It was a monster that didn't faze them, they were prepared to do noble battle to defend Irving whenever the monster began grappling with him.

Today was another one of those dismally dark pre-winter days of non-stop rain, a dense, grey cloud cover and constantly dim light. If proof were ever needed we hadn't enough light in the bedroom, even with our bedside lamps and another sitting on a dresser on a central wall, this was it. We resigned ourselves, given the incessant rain, to a no-ravine-hike day for Jackie and Jillie.

I was  still glowing today from the success of yesterday's savoury meat pie. The night before, we'd had salad and potato latkes for dinner, and latkes at Chanukah is a guaranteed pleaser. It's all the other meals that make up a varied nutritious diet we sometimes have problems with. And a meat pie featuring broccoli would be one of the troublesome ones. I had no problem tasting the broccoli, but Irving said he could barely make it out, and he loved the pie, the best of its kind, he told me, that he's ever eaten. And he ate it all. 

Today's laundry day and it's an all-day chore, averaging four loads all of which have to be extracted from the dryer and neatly folded and put away. For some peculiar reason, it's the folding of the laundry that is my least-favourite household chore. Doesn't make much sense, but there it is. I don't mind ironing one bit, but folding? yech!

By the time half-past three rolled around it was still dark, but the rain had eclipsed itself. The clouds just got fed up and tired with all that weeping. Gone was the snow that had fallen the day before, but then there wasn't much of it to begin with. The sky failed to reveal any reassurance when we tried to read the clouds, since though we saw some patches of blue, we also saw an oncoming batch of storm clouds not grey but black. 

We'd give it a try, we said, and on came the jackets, rain jackets for the puppies, rain-proof winter ones for us. The temperature had risen to 5C, from its overnight low of-6C.  Parts of the forest trails had turned from rock-hard to spongy-wet and we anticipated on our return home that we'd be a tedious while cleaning off eight little paws of acquired muck.

The creek was running hard and wild from all that rain refreshing its flow; turbulent, dark but no odour of swamp gasses. A light grey mist was rising from the creek and being caught by the trees hanging over it, disappearing as we climbed hillsides, leaving the vicinity of the creek. Uphill  traction was good, yesterday it wasn't, slick with newfallen, wet snow. In fact, as we rounded out our hike yesterday taking a less-travelled route that is often muddy and slippery because yesterday it would be hard and easily negotiable, we found otherwise to be the case.

It's a route like a roller-coaster; a descent into a steep valley, which leads to two sharply consecutive hills to be climbed and alternately descended. The last of the hills is a bit tricky because it's often slick. Our attention had been riveted on a large old pine that had been on a gradually increasing lean for years, until it ended up being supported by smaller trees from its perch on a hillside, leaning over toward another hillside. When we saw it yesterday it was completely collapsed, flat on the forest floor, not far from the trail we were on, the trees it had leaned on for years looking the worse for wear.

And as we began to ascend the last hill where we have to carefully pick our way upward, Irving took the slicker route while I remained with the one that gives some difficult, but safe footholds. He slipped and fell, twisting his body as he fell, sticking one of his elbows out to catch himself from falling directly on his face. That kind of fall always produces a !whomp! that takes your breath away. It makes me feel ill momentarily when it happens. He was fine, didn't come down hard anywhere, no resulting pains or aches, much less bruises; we went out well padded. But we'll give that route wide berth now, while the weather is so uncertain...

And then, as we continued on, finally making our way up the last hill to the street, the clouds had parted, there was blue sky and there again, was the day-long absent sun, preparing to set, casting a golden glow on the now-white billowing clouds.

Yesterday I castigated nature for sending us icy cold days lacking snow. Today, what met my eyes is ample evidence that nature sometimes listens and responds. Patronizingly sometimes. Still cold, just a tad not as cold as yesterday, but with a brisker wind. No gain there. And glancing out the front door a moderately white world appeared. A gesture of snow, not enough to remain intact under the glare of a blazing sun and tramping feet. Ah, but that sun and the clear blue sky above was the consolation prize...

Just enough snow in the early morning to convince our neighbour directly across the street to haul her infant grandson about on a red sled up, down, and around their driveway countless times until no snow was left untracked, and the little boy was happily introduced to his first winter. Not enough snow to deter the squirrels from their sprints from garden trees to peanut-laden porch.

As good a day as any, I thought, to try out a different dinner-time recipe, getting all the ingredients and the process together in my head. And incautious enough to mention said ingredients to Irving. Ground beef, great. Tiny cubed potatoes, excellent. Broccoli? That green dread vegetable? What on earth is it doing in a savoury pie? Well, dear, it will be cooked and smothered in a beef gravy. We'll give it a try.

We realized that the chandelier we chose yesterday at Home Depot, while pleasing our aesthetic sense mightily, was too large and would hang too low for the location we had in mind when we decided to spring for it. We're so pleased with the crystal chandelier Irving hung in the family room for additional light to enhance our reading passion, we decided another one would do nicely in our bedroom. Problem: it's an eight-foot ceiling and the fixture is so deep it hangs down a full three feet. Back to the drawing board.

We bundled Jackie and Jillie up in their winter coats, and us as well, and out we went to the ravine. Disappointed but not surprised that the wind had whipped the new snow off its perch on the forest trees. Not that there was much of it to cling to the trees to begin with. It had started flurrying last night around nine or ten, and more came down through the night, but sparingly. And joy, we're expecting rain tomorrow.

Jackie and Jillie at first ran around the snow in the backyard when it was as-yet undisturbed. Re-acquainting themselves with the white stuff. Coming back into the house with snow-laden paws. Wanting a rubdown. Out in the ravine they were blase about it. Seen it, done that. But we came across a pair of golden retrievers, one nine, the other just  over a year old, and the  younger one was beside himself with exhilarated ecstasy, running madly about everywhere, nagging the obviously reluctant older one to run with him.

With them was a tiny terrier mix and he was more than willing to romp about wildly with his big brother but his short, tiny legs, pumping insanely, just couldn't keep up the pace, though he made the effort. The last word in utterly adorable.

The sun was pumping its blinding light into the atmosphere, through the forest canopy, lighting everything up, glancing off the snow, but doing little to warm the -2C ambience. Reminding us of that brilliant observation that you can't have everything.