I thought I might be hallucinating when I looked out the sliding glass doors of our breakfast room and saw a  hot-air balloon. We haven't seen any in years. They seem to have fallen out of fashion, although there's a yearly hot-air balloon festival over in Quebec. It was cancelled last year, but I doubt the one that hovered over our  houses this morning had anything to do with the hot-air boffins in Quebec. The Ottawa housing market has been really booming this past several months, and ReMax looks as though it might be celebrating, lofting a public relations wave at homeowners below.

I saw the thing dangling from the sky and called Irving to have a look and then left to find my camera for a picture. I returned in about ten seconds and the balloon was no longer there. Irv thought I'd been kidding him. Too cold to be up there in the frigid atmosphere. Could I have been mistaken? Nope, nowhere to be seen. How could a balloon move so fast?

On with my boots, up with my jacket and Jackie and Jillie skittered out the open door alongside me. They had no idea why I was going out and I had no idea why they were, other than they're little camp followers. And there was the balloon, slowly edging its way along the sky, although it looked as though it was suspended and stationary. Its presence had been obscured by the deck canopy which left me puzzled since when I'd seen it first it was nowhere near there.

Then I became aware that Jackie and Jillie were staring up at the sky and barking furiously. What IS that thing we've never seen before? And why is it there to begin with? Friend or foe? Just in case, we'd better bark up a storm to let it know this is not a prospective landing port. Clearly it was the sound of the balloon, the flaring gases that keep it aloft, that alerted them to the presence of something unusual; they don't make a habit of looking up at the sky.

It was soon gone, and so were we. Cold out, but not so much as it has been of late, and no wind, so that was a bonus, along with the graciously beaming sun and that azure ocean of blue. The deck canopy is steadily dripping, the last accumulation of snow from the snowstorm just a few days back fast melting. Just in time to welcome another snow dump tomorrow.

By the time we got around to traipsing over to the ravine the sky had welcomed bouffant white clouds obscuring the sun from time to time. This is an assertive sun at this time of year, boosted higher in the sky by the earth's approach to spring and our tilt. It's closer, relatively speaking, and warmer and more brilliant. I'm sure that the forest is taking heed, trees beginning to feel the accelerated push to spring, belying the forest landscape steeped deep in layers of winter-long-acquired snow layers.

Jackie and Jillie were fine with only their coat, minus their sweaters underneath today. Although we're still stuck in freezing temperatures, the creek has opened, the ice and snow that had obscured its presence mostly melted, water running downstream without its ice-cap.

We're still not seeing squirrels about, nor many birds, though we heard a Pileated woodpecker nearby. They'll all be delighted in another few weeks' time -- say beginning mid-March if we're lucky -- when the snowpack begins seriously melting and they can sense that the sun's warmth has returned for good, at least until next winter.

A parcel awaited us in the group mailbox yesterday afternoon when Irving retrieved a key in our mail slot to open one of the two parcel compartments and there we found a gift from our son in Vancouver. Two sets of measuring cups, sizes ranging from a full cup on down to a 1/4 cup, six in all, three on each of two racks he made to hold them. He used a combination of cherry and sumac for the cup handles, and gave them a really hard finish, with the same sealing lacquer he had used when he finished his kayak.

They're sleek and elegant looking, and I'll be loathe to use them for fear of marring their perfect finishes, but when I do use them, I'll do so with care. He's made so many practical, utilitarian yet beautiful things for my use in the kitchen, from rolling pins to wood mixing and stirring spoons, and so many glazed pottery casserole dishes, bowls and teapots. Irving hung the measuring cups and they now gleam above either side of the stove under the fan, appended to cupboard walls.

It's turned out to be yet another in a series of beautiful winter days. Relatively mild at -4C, but the cutting wind makes up for that. The sun sits high in the sky and hangs there like the incredible ceiling chandelier it is, fpr far longer in the day now, illuminating everything below to a perfection of bright beauty. Its rays are now so warm they're doing a fine job melting the snow from the last two snowstorms sitting on the metal-topped canopy over the deck.

Which is double good news, since when the sun melts the load of snow it means Irving doesn't have to put up a ladder and use a telescoping roof shovel to rake it all off manually. He's done more than enough shovelling in the backyard to free up space on the walkways for Jackie and Jillie to be comfortable out there. Yet another bonus the sun brings to us, along with heating up the house interior through the medium of streaming through the stained glass windows that become very warm to the touch, radiating heat throughout the house.

Yesterday's snow was being whipped off trees this afternoon when we entered the ravine for our daily roustabout through the forest trails. Before setting out we wondered vaguely whether, since it is Saturday, the trails would be well used by people throughout the wider community coming out to enjoy a relaxed hike through the woods. When it's really cold, overcast and windy there doesn't tend to be too many people willing to face the elements so much as on days like today.

So there they were, in front of us, behind us, seen in the distance on other trails either approaching or retreating. To all of which Jackie and Jillie react most disagreeably. There are always people coming through we're unfamiliar with and if we're not familiar with them, neither are Jackie and Jillie and their job, they think as custodians of the forest is to vet everyone who has the gall to enter their private preserve. Which can be a tedious exercise in admonishing two little dogs wjp couldn't care less what we think about their disgraceful behaviour.

The snowpack is deep and getting deeper with each snowfall. Right about now, it looks like it has reached the depth of an average winter accumulation. There have been many winters when the total received has raised the forest floor and the depth of the floor of the bridges considerably more. Still, when spring does arrive all that snow will begin to melt, to pour downhill into the creek which will swell and  ragingly sweep its way through the forest en route to the Ottawa River.

For now, we're enjoying it. Always a breath-catcher to enter the forest, embraced by its gloomy light that seems to enhance whatever little colour there is at this time of year. A monochromatic scene for the most part, with white and dark predominating until one peers a little closer and sees the green of pine needles, firs, spruce, hemlock and cedar. 

There were none of the Nantez carrots on the supermarket shelves when we shopped Wednesday morning; those thin, sweet table carrots. Instead I bought a bag of what can only be considered 'horse' carrots; huge, thick carrots. And I made use of them today; one went into the chicken soup I'm cooking, another sliced thinly, into the chicken-mushroom stew we're having over rice, and the largest of them all was shredded for carrot cupcakes. 

In with the carrots went snipped crystalized ginger, pecans and raisins. Cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves gave it that robust fragrance that permeated the house while the cupcakes were baking. Becel margarine, dark brown sugar, two large eggs along with cake and pastry flour, baking powder and a light sprinkling of salt made the batter. I could actually have left the baked version as is, and they'd have been carrot muffins. But I wanted to use up a small tub of cream cheese so I ended up using it for a creamy icing, and hence, cupcakes.

All the while, it was snowing heavily. But the temperature had risen to a moderate -4C, and there was really no wind at all, so we decamped in the early afternoon for our ravine tramp with Jackie and Jillie. The appearance was that of a dark day, given the heavy overcast, aluminum-tinted sky. The brilliance of snow whirling about and falling heavily did nothing to make the day look brighter. It couldn't do that, after all, when it was falling so thickly.

At first we thought we'd have the trails to ourselves today, since there seemed to be no one else about. But once we delved into the ravine, made our way through to the first bridge after which we ascend another rise, we came across several of our long-time hiking buddies with their dogs. A bit of excitement for Jackie and Jillie, and a bit of an opportunity to exchange news for the hikers.

That the atmosphere was pleasant, and the landscape exquisite ensured anyone who would venture out onto the trails today would be amply rewarded. This snowfall hadn't been forecasted; instead what the weather forecast informed us to expect was light flurries through the day. What we get, however, is non-negotiable.

So the trails have become a little more slippery again and ascending and descending the hillsides present a bit of a challenge, but one so familiar to us, we just automatically adjust our stride accordingly and manage quite nicely.

 

Jillie was perfectly fine when we brought her home yesterday from the groomer's. The episode which the vet and the spa groomers reported to us of her having been alarmed and frightened certainly made no impact on her appetite. She was ravenous as usual, turning her usual twirls of delighted impatience when her dinner was being prepared; even more so with the salad to follow.

This morning as we were having breakfast, there was a telephone call from the spa, one of the groomers calling to ask how Jillie was. Our report in response, needless to say, was a reassuring one to them. Before we'd left yesterday with our beautifully groomed and pampered little pups, all of the girls came out to the front to speak with us. Their manager wanted to reassure us so it was quite touching to see their concern.

We've always been fond of all of them, lovely young women, competent, friendly and so obviously attached to each of the creatures that come so briefly into their care. Later, Irving and I talked it over. Jillie tends on occasion to be a stubborn little cuss. If she doesn't want to move, she just won't. Irving thinks she had experienced a little epiphany; she was somewhere she would rather not be for reasons of her own, and wasn't going to take it.

That doesn't wash with me, since she's never before indicated in any way being uncomfortable in the care of these professional and proficient young women to account for the behaviour that they recounted to us. So it's my considered opinion that something had gone awry to either frighten or briefly pain her, likely a combination of both; an accident of some kind in other words. Which doesn't diminish my trust in the people we had chosen to look after our pups in this way. It was, when all is said and done, just one of those things to be filed away.

Our neighbour Dan also dropped by with a gift for Jackie and Jillie. No special occasion, really. He and his wife Lynn never did bring another dog home to live with them after they lost Cannelle, a Golden, to old age. She was such a familiar sight to us for so long, coming over to be spoken to, petted. She was another stubborn personality and a loving one. Lynn had baked doggie biscuits as a gift to some of her extended family that have dogs, and wanted us to have some, too. I had on occasion done the same thing myself.

This morning's -17C temperature steadily rose throughout the day to finally hit a  high of -4C in the mid-afternoon and that's when we chose to venture out to the ravine. Actually, Jackie and Jillie informed us it was high time we left the house for our daily ravine foray. They come to fetch us with a clear message: let's go!

And so we did. They wore their new booties. We had ambled over to the boutique co-located to the veterinarian hospital and spa. They now operate strictly at a distance. We accessed the pick-up window and took possession of two packages of extra-small rubber booties, 12 in a package. Their old boots have seen better days; they've slowly been eliminated. They resemble tiny balloons to be pulled over tiny feet to protect from ice and icy temperatures and they do the trick.

It was much easier going through the snow-packed trails today than the previous two days. The third day following Monday night's snowstorm made all the difference in tractionability. The thick mounds of snow have been well flattened; enough people have been through at this juncture and the trails are readily navigable. Ascents are another story altogether; if you build up enough momentum and keep going, it works fairly well. Pausing briefly before reaching the top of a hill spells backsliding and a considerable effort to regain traction.

There were more people out today, more dogs and more need to feint and swerve and duck to avoid close physical contact while still practising the courtesy of social greeting. And although it had been mostly overcast for the time we were out on the trails, just before we prepared to complete our circuit the sun peeked out briefly behind the screen of the trees to wave a cheery Hi There!

 

The voice at the other end was that of one of the veterinarians where we take Jackie and Jillie for their physicals and vaccinations. I just knew when the telephone rang shortly after we returned home what to expect; some inner voice 'told me' that call would be a disturbing one. But the reason we decided to use the spa next to and part of the animal  hospital we've used for decades was their proximity. One of the groomers had bathed Jillie and was blowdrying her hair preparatory to cutting it, when suddenly as we were told, Jillie became frantically upset, crying and acting out. Frightening the young women enough that they took Jillie next door so a vet could check her out.

They had no idea why she was hysterical, crying and yelping. According to the vet she seemed fine physically and he was able to calm her. She was taken back to the spa and they would let her rest then try to groom her, and if she resisted, they'd leave it for another appointment. Meanwhile, Jackie was being attended to. Jillie is not high-strung, Jackie is. They've been to this spa, handled by the groomers often enough. She knows them, they know her, so this behaviour was wildly uncharacteristic. She let loose her bowels and she peed. That too is unlike her.

We think that what happened is that whoever was drying her hair may have had the dryer on too hot a cycle and Jillie had been burned, though there was nothing visible to support that theory. When we picked them up there was no sign of any ordeal. They were just both of them beside themselves with joy to see us; Jillie was spinning excited circles, eager to be taken home. For a treat once home I cubed up a nectarine and part of a bell pepper between them. And as soon as we got home Irving took the bright little ribbons out of Jillie's hair. I can't persuade him not to.

This was a busy day. We had decided not to do the grocery shopping as usual on Tuesday because Monday was a holiday and Tuesday was the first day of the lockdown being relaxed with stores permitted to reopen. We woke earlier than usual this morning and left our two puppies crying, wailing and whining and howling as though they were being tortured, left alone, bereft of our presence.

We arrived just as the store opened and found the shelves good and full of fresh produce despite our concerns they wouldn't be. Re-stocking shelves has become paramount, after some experiences we've had where shelves had been cleared out the days previously and not properly re-stocked for early morning shoppers. We're seeing more people going along to do their shopping earlier in the day like us of late.

Soon after breakfast and the following clean-up we decided we'd take an earlier than usual ravine hike, despite the -11C temperature and windy conditions. The sun was illuminating the house interior with its super-wattage and we thought that by late morning hiking conditions through the snow of the storm of the day before in the ravine would have improved by people making their way through the trails. We soon discovered otherwise. 

The snow is plentiful and high and though it's been somewhat tamped down on the trails, it remains untrodden completely; the result being an excess remaining of soft snow interspersed with bootprints, an uneven surface with slippery conditions throughout. As exhausting as it was yesterday to tramp through the new snow, it was just the same today. Slow slogging, stopping now and again to rest and catch breath briefly, stilling our beating hearts, resting aching leg muscles before carrying on.

 We wanted to give Jackie and Jillie a chance to have their usual daily ramble through the woods because we knew we wouldn't want to take them out after their haircoat had been cut today, even with double jackets for warmth. Chances are it will be slightly more moderate temperature-wise tomorrow and we won't be so concerned. We happened to cross paths with a young woman we've known for decades, pulling herself uphill, her malemute preceding her. She's a lot younger than we are and she was clearly having difficulty attaining the crest of the hill.

The wind was busy whipping snow off branches in long shimmering veils lofted through the air to finally settle on the snowed-in ground. Despite the cold temperature and the wind, we were exerting so much energy in locomotion against the snow along with the effort of maintaining balance that we began to actually feel too warm.

When we completed our circuit with just a few minutes left before we'd have to leave to deliver the puppies to the spa, we came to a growing obstacle attaining the street exiting the ravine, where mounds of snow have been piled high by the municipal plow when it clears the street after a snowfall. In clambering over the mound I slipped, unable to catch my balance and did a complete swan dive. On my back, as it happened, falling ingloriously into the still-soft snowpack and sustaining no injuries much less an ache. I did emerge from the incident resembling a snowman, however.

It had started snowing when we went up to bed last night. By morning we'd received about 22 cm. Our neighbours shovelled out our porch and walkways by the time we came down for breakfast.  Looks like we cannot persuade them otherwise. So be it. Good souls that they are.

Meanwhile, as soon as Irving took Jackie and Jillie out while I was setting the table for breakfast, he set about shovelling the pathways in the backyard for them. When they came back after their initial foray out-of-doors they were well drenched in snow. The snow was in fact still coming down while they were out. They enjoyed a good rub-down and settled in to await breakfast.

Their kibble would be augmented by part of the Cornish Game Hen Irving and I shared for dinner last night. It certainly encouraged their appetite. Also last night Irving made an attempt to resuscitate his mini-laptop, an Acer that was only about six years old. He looked on line for hints on trouble-shooting, discussed it by telephone with one of our sons. This will be the third mini-laptop he's had over the past 20 years and enjoyed not very good service from them.

So when we came back from our foray into the ravine this afternoon he went off to Best Buy to pick up a Lenovo laptop and hope for better luck with it. Guess who will be setting it up? Oddly enough the man who has patience I could never muster, who is able to do anything at all he turns his hand to, from painting to stained glass work, furniture construction to electrical and plumbing work, excavation and landscape design, just hasn't the interest in being comfortable around computers.

Its use for him is strictly utilitarian; an entertainment venue to pick up old dramas, detective or mystery television series. British preferably, but German and Swedish will also do. I'm far from being comfortable as in knowing what to do, much less knowing what I'm doing around computers, but I get by. So we'll give this another try...

Funnily enough, this is the very day that commercial enterprises are permitted to open in Ontario, a loosening of the lockdown and stay-at-home orders from the province. Because of that and that we expected supermarkets and everything else to be packed with shoppers we opted to forego our food shopping this early morning and tackle it tomorrow. Given the weather and driving conditions, just as well. By the time Irving had gone out to pick up the computer traffic was horrendous and the wind had picked up considerably.

The municipality had plowed out our road just after noon, and our driveway was done soon afterward. So we set off with Jackie and Jillie in -8C cold, fast falling to -9C, hoping that enough people would have been through the trails to begin tamping them down somewhat. We soon discovered 'somewhat' to be the operative word here. It was tough, tough going, slogging through the new snow. We rested often from the sheer exertion required to get through the trails. 

Jackie was ecstatic, he wanted to rush about everywhere. Their little rubber boots keep their tiny feet from freezing, and he was overjoyed with all the snow; Jillie is more laconic in nature, the only thing that excites her enough to turn circles of anticipation is food. The presence of the snow thickly slathered on the trails may have been an impediment to smooth sailing for us, but not to them. Jackie marched smartly along, veering off in one tangential swoop after another, left to right, right to left. Jillie steers straight ahead, for the most part.

The view of the landscape was exhilarating, exquisitely beautiful, everything lathered in bright white icing. Gusts of wind up to 30kmh blew the tops of the forest trees, but made little inroad at our level. The wind that did come through, however, was piercing enough given the cold atmosphere. The energy we expended tramping through the snow kept us warmer than we'd feel under less strenuous conditions, that was clear. Stray gusts of wind whipped the fresh snow off laden branches.

Making our way uphill in these conditions, the snow thick and slippery, was quite the feat; we slid back often enough, but managed finally to crest each hill. Slithering downhill was easier, but really challenged our balance. And we saw few other people out. Everything combined, the arduous trek through new snow, the colder temperature augmented by wind for extra discomfort, allied with the fact of commercial opening on this day likely kept most people away. Those few we did see happily grunted their opinion of the laboriously slow going and carried on.

Soup tonight! The temperature will keep dropping until it reaches -22C. We'll sleep well and comfortably. I'm preparing a French onion soup. Kind of a power dinner, come to think of it, because I'm also preparing a side dish of spinach and a big bowl for each of us of sweet and juicy clementines for dessert.

In the great, wide out-of-doors the sun warms and comforts us on frozen winter days. It does amazing things to the landscape, illuminating everything it falls upon. In our interior spaces we have to rely on other wanna-be suns to do the comforting and warming, and nothing does it quite like a fireplace. Any kind of fireplace. We happen to have a gas fireplace. It's a conversion we undertook as soon as we moved into this house of ours thirty years ago. Neater, tidier than a wood-burning fireplace. Just doesn't have the authentic fragrance...

So the fireplace warms our exterior selves, and we look about for something to suit our tastes in appearance, promise, fragrance and texture, to be placed on the dinnertime table. Nothing, absolutely nothing does it quite as well as a bowl of steaming hot, fragrant, delicious soup crammed with vegetables and an assortment of beans. And to help it all go down, fresh-baked bread with its heavenly aroma, crisp texture and mouth-watering taste, fulfilling both our sensuous and nutritional needs. 

When I'm rolling out the bread dough and slathering it with butter (or margarine), a thick sprinkling of sesame seeds goes over and then a good grating of sharp cheddar cheese. Folding and rolling out again and spread and repeat and repeat again does the trick. Sitting around relaxing after a good trek through the forest trails afterward, the soup bubbling away on the stove, the croissants in the oven, is the ultimate anticipation of good things to come.

A dessert-bowl of clementine sections each, cleanses the palate with its sweet. sharp citrus taste and that completes the ritual of fortifying ourselves to face the evening and a good night's rest. In the morning chickadees on the porch and surrounding trees informed us that they too enjoyed a hearty meal, as did the unmistakable pattern of scores of squirrel tracks on the snow.

Today turned out to be much milder than its predecessors this week. Nicely enough, it's a public holiday, Family Day, which neatly enough followed Valentine's Day. We were out in the woods with Jackie and Jillie following a light snowfall which itself had followed hours of morning sunshine. Today gave us a little bit of everything on the weather front. Above all, a high of -6C, welcome after the much colder temperatures of the last week.

Because it's a holiday and one emphasizing time with family we saw quite a few family groups out on the trails. Parents dutifully dragging sleds behind them, which their children might or might not use, since they also took advantage of the natural option of sledding downhill minus sleds. We watched as one man walking alone slid wildly downhill, just managing to catch and right himself as it looked toward the end that he might keel over.

And it's awfully hard not to note that finally the days are getting longer, they really are. No longer does twilight set in just after four in the afternoon. The sun is higher int he sky now, and takes longer, later to set. We have light longer into the late afternoon/early evening. We're now midway through February. In March, an uncertain-weather month here, we're in the home stretch to spring. And although it isn't entirely unknown to have snowstorms in Ottawa in April, even May, we think it'll be smooth sailing in a month's time.