The early morning sun glowed incandescent-bright, illuminating a changed landscape that had resulted from overnight snow. The landscape, having surrendered its vegetation and foliage to the cold of oncoming winter appeared dry, drab and unappealing, colourless and uninspiring. Now that the winter-prepared gardens void of form and colour and the nearby forest, where the forest canopy has been emptied of its leafmass are covered with snow, the landscape has once again come alive.

The sun was just visiting for the morning. Before long metallic-grey clouds moved in and the temperature moved up to 0C. Just enough so that the snow accumulated on the metal awning over our deck has begun melting. A few evergreens in the garden needed to be rescued; boughs hanging low with heavy snow. The person who delivers our daily newspapers obviously had to duck under one of them to approach the porch.

We've contracted with a snow removal enterprise for the past five years to clear out the driveway after snowfalls as have done most of the home-owners on the street we live on. There are a lot of retirees living on the street, and with age comes chronic illnesses and a diminishing of strength and energy. My husband has plenty of both but after open-heart surgery it's not the kind of energy-expenditure he needs at age 84.

After breakfast he went out to shovel the walkways in the backyard for Jackie and Jillie and those at the front of the house from the driveway leading to the porch. This snowfall didn't leave us with light powdery snow, the elevated temperature just at the freezing mark has given the snow a wet, sticky quality, so it's heavy to move. The street plow cleaned up the slushy snow on the road, but what's left is a thin veneer of ice.

When we readied ourselves to get out for our daily spin through the ravine with Jackie and Jillie we      understood that conditions called for boots for them, and cleats to pull over our boots. Even yesterday when the snow had started coming down in the afternoon and it was light stuff, ascending and descending hills presented us with slippery conditions.

So Jackie and Jillie got outfitted with their winter coats and with little orange rubber boots. Trial and error has taught us that these are the most comfortable, least confining and guaranteed to remain in place, of the various types we had tried with them; the least expensive and the most effective. As for us, the cleats strapped firmly over our hiking boots (we'll pull out winter snowboots soon enough when the snowpack grows considerably) allowed us a far firmer footing.

Out in the ravine, we heard large clusters of geese overhead, but given the low and dense cloud ceiling weren't able to make out their vee formation. They're migrating. With snow now covering farmers' fields where they tend to gather and pick up stray seeds and then fly over to the Ottawa River nearby, there's little left for them and it's time for these laggards to finally depart for warmer climes.

When Jackie and Jillie met the newfallen snow for the first time early this morning they were energized and romped madly about the backyard They're constrained from running at will in the ravine since we keep them on leash in recognition of their impetuous, challenging nature, in fear that if a coyote appears, or they see or smell or sense one, they'll dash off after it. There've been enough misadventures with the coyotes who don't want to be bothered but will turn and defend themselves if provoked.

Halfway through our circuit, we heard a mournful, familiar sound, that of a train whistle. It's a melodious, nostalgic sound we hear on the rare occasion while in the forest. All other sounds muffled by the snow comforter. Approaching the end of our circuit we were ascending a short hill that gives out onto a main one that takes us to street level, when Jackie and Jillie turned onto the main trail before us. As we turned up the trail we were just in time to see a young man almost run into Jackie's leash.

We had seen him earlier at various points on the trails today, dressed to the  heights in running gear, a tall, slender young man perhaps in his late teens. Zipping up and down the trails, perhaps on a school sports assignment to prepare for some event. He had been running down the hill so fast and silently we only became aware of his presence as we rounded our way onto the hill, saw him swerve, then totter and finally right himself before continuing on at the same breakneck clip. Not a word passed his lips. 'Sorry!' I called out after him.

Habit is an interesting phenomenon, practised by humans but also by others within the animal kingdom. Animals like our Jackie and Jillie who have habits of their very own, some of which impinge on ours just as some of our habits instruct them. They are excellent time-keepers, for example. Around ten every evening Jackie gets restless and wants to go out to the backyard. He figures that this will trigger our willingness to go up to bed. It never does; we won't do that for another hour, or most frequently two more hours.

 
In the morning Jillie gets restless just before eight, and thinks we should be up and getting breakfast for her and her brother, and she gets very insistent about her obligation to remind us of our sacred duty to do just that. In the early evening, at six on the dot, they both rouse themselves to stand stolidly, reproachfully before me with the unspoken yet very obvious message not requiring vocalization that it's dinner time for them.

When they've finished their 'first course' at dinnertime, consisting of their kibble topped with chicken and chicken soup to moisten the kibble, they're impatient for the next course. While this is being prepared Jillie turns dizzy circles of anticipation, and sometimes Jackie joins her.That's the fresh vegetable salad they get every evening. It starts out with frozen cauliflower zapped lightly in t he microwave, then bell pepper, snap peas, cucumber and tomatoes cut into little pieces mixed in with the cauliflower. If I'm not quick enough Jackie gets quite upset and barks out his orders for me to 'move it!'.

On our return from our daily spin through the forest trails in our nearby ravine, they burst through the house in a mad run-about, an excess of joyfulness. And then they get down to the serious business of dogging me in the kitchen, reminding me that I haven't yet given them their afternoon treat, and that's raw, cut-up cauliflower in their little dishes. They leap with excitement awaiting those dish-deposits before them and dive straight in.

So they know their times-of-day, clever aren't they? And then there's the issue of knowing which day of the week it happens to be. They know that on Mondays and Fridays we have cereal for breakfast, and that means they can look forward to little bowls of cereal and milk of their own after they've had their kibble. Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays my husband has soft-boiled eggs at breakfast, and those are the days they know they'll be getting an egg split between them as a treat; hard-boiled or scrambled.

That leaves the weekend, which is their favourite for on Saturdays they can smell bacon and eggs on the stove and they prance around anxiously awaiting their portions in their little dishes. But their favourite of all their favourites is Sunday, for that's the day we have either French toast and sausages or pancakes and sausages. Today it was banana pancakes served with sausages; they turn head-over-heels for Sunday treat.

Another treat of somewhat dubious quality was in store for today; a shortened daylit-Sunday. Heavily overcast all day, but by half-past two there was no longer any pretense at daylight, and we knew that snow, finally, was on the way. When we emerged from the house a tad after three, light snow had begun falling on a 0C day, and the wind had come up notably.

For the duration of our ramble through the woods snow fell and gradually its white aspect covered everything. This may turn out to be a nice snowstorm; rumours of 20 centimetres in the forecast, and welcome. Jackie and Jillie's warm little paws made impressions on the slowly-accumulating snow as we marched through the trails, and the atmosphere kept getting progressively darker, until by the time we emerged, hauling ourselves back up to street level, it was completely dark. We'd better get used to it.

News on the COVID front not very encouraging. That, despite the longed-for revelation that Pfizer and Moderna -- and now Astra-Zeneca as well -- pharmaceuticals' Third-Phase Trials have been rated so positively. The world is on literal tenterhooks waiting for some medical miracle to rescue us all from the grip of this SARS-CoV-2  virus that has wrought such untold misery and damage globally. But we will have to continue waiting, as difficult as that is, before those three and following vaccines are approved for emergency use to shield the world population as best as can be done, from the predatory virus.

Case numbers skyrocket in the U.S., in Russia, in France, Italy, the Middle East, in India, Mexico. The one area of the world that appears to have succeeded in dampening the dread effects of the pandemic seems primarily to be China, if news coming out of their state-sponsored agencies are to be believed. What is hardly to be believed is that the source of the infection which has gone on to destroy countless lives across the globe and has done so much harm to the world economy, sinking employment and leaving families triple-marooned on an island of fear, illness and lost income has hardly made a dent in China.

Here in Canada, the news is sobering, with the nation's top public health experts warning that with this second storm of infections the subsiding rates that were seen in the wake of the first wave, has reversed to alarming proportions. Once again acute-care institutions and retirement residences have become hot-spots for infections and deaths. 

We are warned by health authorities and by those whom we routinely elect to govern us for the greater good of society that we, the public, have let down our cautionary measures resulting in community infection rates increasing alarmingly. In Toronto and Peel region, Ontario's premier has ordered another lockdown; all non-essential services and businesses are to close for a designated period. Yet day-cares and schools will remain open.

In Ottawa, where we live, we are rated to be in the 'orange zone', not quite reaching the point where Toronto has gained the distinction of 'red', but getting there. Grim, grim, grim. But we've a life to  live and to get on with, and there is no use moping and succumbing to numbing fear. Hope does spring eternal in the human psyche, and never more so than when matters turn as seemingly hopeless as they are now deemed to be. 

We gathered ourselves for a tramp through the forest early this afternoon. After yesterday's balmy, quite unexpected 15C, when it wasn't hard to imagine that summer had forgotten its date down under and simply wandered back to this hemisphere it suddenly recalled where it should be and abandoned us again. So it's a cold day, with a high of 3 degrees, lots of wind, and occasional sun. Although the sun came and went as it would, for the duration of our hour and more rambling through the forest trails it gleamed brightly.

The trails are beginning to firm up again, leaving less muck to trail through derived from the transition from night-time icy temperatures to milder and sunny day-time conditions. The birds appear to be laying low; nowhere in evidence these cold days and blasting wind conditions, though the squirrels are still hard at it, continuing to gather cones.

The forest landscape seems as colour-deprived and bleak as the news. Until finally those thoughts and concerns clear out as we venture deeper into the woods and wander through the trails, watching Jackie and Jillie rambling about as they tend to do, finding intriguing odours everywhere we go. Their interest in and fascination with those odours are somewhat like our fixation on the news updates.

There's no antidote to mild depression from any source as a cause of dire concern, quite like being out in nature and letting your thoughts run as free as the wind, looking about in all directions, noticing little things like needles couching themselves in tree depressions, foliage remaining in sparse little clusters on saplings and ground vegetation, expressing little flags of colour caught by the probing fingers of the sun to stand out from the prevailing black, brown and greys.

When we were bundled up against the freezing-level temperatures the past several days and complaining about an early winter's arrival, one of our friends shouted after us as we parted to go our separate ways through the forest trails that Friday would be a day of deliverance, at 15C. We stared at him with a hefty dose of incredulity, shrugged and went on our way.

Today is that Friday as it happens, and it's been so toasty-warm at 14C, we felt overdressed even when we dressed down for the more moderate temperature. Jackie and Jillie were wearing little sweaters, not the fluffy winter jackets of two days earlier, and though they might not have noticed the difference -- at least they didn't mention it to us -- we most certainly did. I doffed my gloves halfway through our ramble, as unnecessary for comfort.

We caught glimpses of the sun and it tantalized us with the query, did it mean to burst out of the clouds or not? Not turned out to be the $65-thousand answer, but even without the sun glaring down to heat up the atmosphere, the ambient air felt downright balmy.In the morning, when we went out into the backyard with Jackie and Jillie it was clear that something or someone had bothered a skunk; the odour was sharp but not to the extent that it might have been from our backyard, though Jackie and Jillie made a mad dash of curiosity for the back of the garden sheds.

 Nice to have a day that breaks up a string of unusually cold weather. A bit of a lift from the down we felt from the morning news that the province has hit the 100,000 mark in infections with another 1,400+ cases overnight, more hospitalizations and deaths and cancellation of elective surgeries at certain hospitals. One of my old school chums from over a half-century back in time emailed me a few days earlier that she is scheduled for surgery to implant a stent. That obviously isn't going to happen now, not right now. 

It's been a lovely day otherwise, as long as we channel our thoughts and muse in other directions. And there's always plenty to do in the house. I still hadn't used all of the short-dated cream cheese that came in a large tub that my husband brought home last week, so I decided to bake cupcakes with what was left of it. I chose a combination I thought would work well so we would end up with a Cream-cheese lime cupcake with cheese-lime frosting.

My husband squeezed the lime for its juice after I had grated its skin and then he went downstairs to his workshop to do some much-needed clean-up before starting on the latest stained glass windows he's still in the process of designing. He's decided on a forest pond and ducks so that will be a little different. He has the basic outlines of the cartoon and has changed a few things in it to better reflect his vision.

I decided as well to bake cheese croissants and so we'll have those too with our dinner. I sprinkled the interior with sesame seeds and toyed with the idea of substituting the seeds with a herb-spice mix, but my husband didn't sound too enthusiastic about it when I put it to him. He vacuumed our bedroom, bathroom and the family room so we could get away a little earlier for our ravine jaunt this afternoon.

We ran into some familiar faces, and  most everyone had their jackets unzipped because of the mild weather. We met for the first time as we were ascending a hill and he was going in the opposite direction, a stand-in for Santa Claus. He greeted Jackie and Jillie, bending down to their height from his own rotund presence and before we knew it a lengthy discussion ensued between us, about gaining the trust of animals, about how difficult life is for Mexicans and Haitians, and how fortunate we are to have been born in Canada. Oh of course COVID was discussed as well; impossible to have a conversation with anyone without mentioning COVID, it so dominates our lives.

The man was French-Canadian and lamented how differently people behave locally than say, in Mexico, where he told us he had spent several months a while ago, and where the people are so friendly and personable as compared to Canada. I didn't of course, mention my own experience that if anyone is going to be unfriendly and non-communicative it is generally French-Canadians who take great offence at not being addressed in French rather than English, and tend to ignore cheery 'hellos'. 

This fellow was short and round, with a stiff, long white/grey beard that formed an inverted fan below his chin. His face was as round as his body, with engaging wrinkles reflecting a good temperament and a tendency to smile widely. He did, in very fact, bear a deep resemblance to that jolly old elf and it was a pleasure speaking with him, a very nice person.

It's a day of good news and bad news. The good news comprised of more pharmaceutical companies announcing success in their Phase Three vaccine trials, giving themselves an astonishingly generous 90% and more pass rate, expressing confidence in their product, coming to the world's timely rescue and that now it's over to government health regulators to do the right thing and proceed with the assent for emergency expediting of their offerings to anxiously waiting countries that have signed up, pre-ordering the precious, life- and economy-saving drugs.

The complication is that the first such vaccine requires the kind of refrigeration that's quite unthinkable for swift distribution and inoculation; -70C required to keep it active; while another needs only normal refrigeration and yet another needs none at all. Oh, and a double inoculation, 28 days apart for the vaccine to be fully successful. In Canada, the provincial government health authorities in Ontario with the country's largest population base, with the prior knowledge that more people would be taking a seasonal flu shot reflecting warnings from the medical community that if seasonal flu and COVID-19 intersected the result could be catastrophic, ordered more shots than usual to accommodate a larger take-up.

Somehow, whoever did the ordering must have 'forgotten' to order enough of the triple shot for senior adults, and those seniors who hadn't moved quickly to acquire those shots are now left in a situation where the more powerful shots have been depleted. Bad enough doctors' offices and doctors themselves are not fully accessible to their patients for fear of COVID infection, having turned the inessentials like offering flu shots to their elderly patients elsewhere, referring them instead to pharmacies where it's perfectly all right for a pharmacist to risk infection, but not a doctor or a nurse.

The point being, it stands to reason that if a routine vaccination like that for the seasonal flu can't be undertaken properly, it's a test-run case for the distribution and mass inoculation  of a population to render the SARS-CoV-2 virus causing COVID to be similarly problematical.

And just as well we can forget all these troubling little details when Jackie and Jillie confront us with far more outstanding matters; their perception that we're ignoring the vital importance of getting them out for their daily tramp through the forest trails. They did offer to help me change the bed linen, and do the laundry today, but I demurred, said I could handle it fellas. Having done so, they queried us as to the hold-up in their entitlements.

Finally, we could offer no more excuses. It's turned out to be a perfect day for a stroll through the woods; nowhere near as bitterly cold and windy as yesterday. And though the sun had shone earlier in the day when they frolicked about in the backyard, it had decided to make an early day of it, and toddled off somewhere else, prior to its early retirement for the day.

The absent sun makes quite the difference. Not merely to the ambient temperature, but of course to the quality of light in the afternoon, particularly inside a forest where the forest canopy throws its own bit of twilight onto the landscape even before dusk begins its early-winter arrival. The landscape looks unmistakably drear at this time of year; gone the verdant blessing of all green growing things but for the needles of conifers, never so much appreciated as at this time of year.

And although we really have no idea who the silent benefactor of the ravine is who occasionally leaves behind piquant little gestures to elicit a smile from any passerby, today we came across more of his/her handiwork, earning great admiration for the wag with the droll sense of humour. Whoever it was chosethe most unlikely of trees as a proxy for a Christmas tree.

There, before us, stood the wreck of an old wild apple tree, gnarled, broken, rotting, but still living albeit in winter mode. And there, festooned on its trunk and branches were gay and twinkly Christmas ornaments of good cheer, a large red bow, and dangling coloured balls. A sight certain to move anyone to smile in appreciation, though to be sure, Jackie and Jillie took no notice.

A thoughtful gift from whoever it may happen to be, to those who pass through those trails regularly, to ease the ache of trepidation over a viral scourge that is decimating the world population and sending its nations to its knees in desperation to save their own.

 By the time Jackie and Jillie made a last before-bedtime spurt out to the backyard, the temperature had dropped below -6Clast night, and with the wind it felt pretty cold. They were back in the house in an eyewink and ready to go up to bed, and so were we, and bed felt pretty good under the covers preparing us for a sound sleep.

When we awoke this morning it was still cold, but it had been a clear night and no snow had fallen, the wind had moderated and the sun was out. The temperature was lower than yesterday's but felt more comfortable, thanks to diminished wind action and the warming sun. 

We're debating between us whether to look for new winter jackets for Jackie and Jillie. Jackie's are fine, but Jillie has 'outgrown' hers. Girthwise. She's just on the cusp of being overweight. Jackie's taller, spare size means he can fit into anything, his weight remains constant. Straps no longer want to close around Jillie's form, on the other hand, nor do velcro fastenings. My husband has taken to sewing velcro strips at strategic places on to some of her jackets.

And he did that today, sewing six straps on one of their warmer winter coats to extend the width, in hopes that they'd be a better fit. The result was debatable. So, do  we really want to haul them out to a pet supply shop to look about for suitable new winter coats for them, or should we opt for looking on line, hoping to see some appropriate gear there, and just order it? Doing that would mean we couldn't fit the garment to her specifications right there.

Yet if we went with them to any of a number of pet supply shops we'd be exposing ourselves and them needlessly to the possibility of exposure to COVID infection. Apart from the fact that all such ventures have become awkward enterprises. Adding in the factor that the infection rate in Ottawa is fairly problematical, with cases steadily increasing, according to reports.

I had decided to take a hot soapy pail of water downstairs and scrub the tiled floors in the basement, something I don't often do. And when I finished that, I moved the stove in the kitchen and scrubbed the floor behind the stove. Just one of those days when you nag yourself enough to get around to doing chores you mean to do, but usually just shove out of mind.

The afternoon was getting on by then and Jackie and Jillie were anticipating a hike through the ravine. My husband was busy sketching out a new cartoon that he will eventually develop into a full-size pattern to begin putting together another pair of stained glass windows to fit into the pair of shutters he's just completed, for the second of the upstairs bedrooms.

It was time to go, and off we went, well buttressed against the cold by layers of clothing. Now that the cold weather has arrived we're no longer encountering members of the surrounding community venturing out into the ravine for autumn tramps; they've winnowed themselves out of the forest. leaving the trails to diehard trail hikers. So that people we come across now and again are those we've been long familiar with.

Coincidentally, Jackie and Jillie see other dogs they have familiarity with and whose presence they're comfortable with and it's a lot more relaxing for everyone. The sun was out warming the atmosphere and the wind continued light, but for the most part under the forest canopy we're not exposed to the warmth of  the sun, so that kept us moving along at a good pace to burn more energy in the interests of keeping warm. 

We had gone into the ravine just after three in the afternoon, and by the time we were close to exiting, our circuit completed, twilight had entered and the sun was setting low in the distance, creating a diorama of dark forest silhouettes, the golden orb sparking in fiery splendour.

Yesterday's weather presented a challenge, nature's way of introducing us to the inevitability of winter onset. We knew that today would be even icier, and the wind would be fiercer. So before going up to bed I rummaged about in the pantry for a container of white pea beans, rinsed a cup of them, and poured four cups of cold water over the beans. Then, up we went to bed.

I'm not making much headway on my reading of Umberto Eco's novel Foucault's Pendulum, it's densely allusive and though playful, slow going. It was lights-out a half-hour later, and before I knew it my husband was fully dressed and urging me to do the same. We had a schedule to keep. Early morning shopping for our weekly groceries, after settling Jackie and Jillie in to the morning. Hearing their mournful baying as we left the house on a cold but bright morning.

An hour and a half later we were home again; no concerns over sharing a large floor space of shelves and refrigerated units packed with food items with a horde of shoppers. There were more store employees by far packing the half-empty shelves than customers. The young male cashier whom we've seen for several weeks running is efficient and sweet-tempered, given to small-talk socializing with us while keeping himself and us in a safe zone.

Traffic wasn't at all heavy, though steady. There was still some remnants of the snow that had fallen overnight on the ground; more of it remained up on rooftops -- as though we needed reminding that winter is nigh. Frantic greetings on our return home; Jackie and Jillie dividing their joy and anxious leaps and bounds between us and the food collected in the four large plastic carriers deposited from car trunk to kitchen floor.

Breakfast a happy, relaxed affair after another trip outdoors where the sun has long since departed for the day. And then, time out for a round of the forest trails was in order. Consultations over which of their little coats would keep them warmest on this coldest-to-date of mid-November days. Finally we're all ready to go, puppies excited and leaping at the mudroom door leading to the garage. We leave the laundry sink filled with soapy water for paw-laving on our return.

One of those days when people prefer to remain at home rather than venture out onto the forest trails, so we have our circuit pretty well undisturbed by anyone else's presence. Despite which Jackie and Jillie detect the past-presence of others either from the days previous or hours prior to our arriving in the ravine this day.

Our pace today is much faster than has been usual in less inclement weather. The wind rips through our thick mittens, freezing our hands. Jackie and Jillie seem not to be the least bothered by either cold or wind, their little coats providing them with ample comfort. Although the ground is well penetrated by frost now, the topmost layer of the forest floor on the trails is sloppy with muck, and the puppies take care to avoid the mid-section of the trail, and we follow them to the still-leaf-covered sides, side-stepping the thick-oozing wet areas.

At one juncture up on the ridge forming the main trail through the forest, they stop and begin growling, alert to the slope on the left and another trail down below. We are able to see no one there moving around, no people, no dogs, but they continue their alert stance and their growling. It's a safe enough assumption that they sense or smell the presence of a creature they fail to approve of; possibly a coyote.

Yesterday we had come across an acquaintance while out with our puppies who informed us that earlier in the week when he had been out in the early morning he had encountered a coyote. His dog, a large Lab, is capable of defending herself, but it's highly unlikely a coyote would be interested in attacking a large dog, though rumour has it that they sometimes use pack strategies with a sole dog, and other people have told us that the coyotes tend to be more playful in attitude than threatening and we find that version more credible.

Later, back at home, I dice up a garlic clove, an onion, and four tomatoes, stirring them into the beans that I had earlier cooked to soften for an hour. In went salt and pepper, molasses, maple syrup, tomato paste and half a chicken soup cube; my version of stove-top 'baked beans'. Which will warm us up nicely at dinnertime on this quasi-winter day.