Isn't it Snowing!!!

Yes, it's snowing, all right. This is winter, after all. And winter loves to celebrate its presence in these northern climes by a frequent scramble of cold, wind and snow. Actually, in this geographic location specifically, known as the second-coldest national capital in the world (after Ulan Bator, Mongolia), we usually have far more snow packed down hard on the ground after successive snowfalls than we have acquired this year.

Everything's gone kind of whacky; British Columbia which is normally rainy throughout the winter has had our early-normal share of snowfall, while winter took its sweet time finally arriving here in Canada's national capital region. Still, we've been spared the worst of the weather systems that have been playing havoc elsewhere, while occasionally reminding us of what hell nature can still visit upon those of us who haven't the leisure of the retired.

Today, for example, we're anticipating a total somewhere around 20 cm of snowfall. Where in southern Ontario and northern New York State today's entire accumulation (including yesterday's) will culminate in a truly memorable experience; they've already had over 50 cm fall. So we feel pretty lucky, launching ourselves into the ravine for our daily walk, all bundled up against the minus-16-degree celcius temperature.

True, the snow is falling here, but it's beautiful beyond belief to see it tumbling gracefully in light clumps through the trees. We've had a modest accumulation thus far today, no more than 4 cm, and our little dogs, coat- and boot-clad find the going challenging enough. Button, older and longer-legged, plods along, while tiny Riley pumps his short legs gamely onward. To spare them, we won't prolong today's walk beyond their endurance.

We flop down the first descent into the ravine, and are embraced by the view of white-mantled conifers and the frozen creek thick in snow. The snow does muffle ambient sound, but our boots still creak along audibly. We speak encouragingly to our two little companions, urging them up the long ascent to take us to the uppermost height, the spine of the ravine, and they pick up their pace, but it's an obvious struggle for them.

Ahead, the figure of a short, slight person hoves into view and alongside him what proves to be a very large dog. We've seen miniature horses as large. The man stoops briefly and we can barely make out the leash extending from the man's hand to the dog's collar as we proceed toward one another. Riley has already begun his yappiting and my husband picks him up. Button carefully makes her way beside me, trying to pass the large dog unnoticed.

But the hairy beast is good natured and eager to make acquaintance of another canine, sniffing her in the most gentle manner, so that Button resigns herself to the ritual, unmoving and patient. "Is he a Bernese mountain dog?" I ask the young man, and he, proudly assures me that's just what it is. To my further query he responds "Chester". And proceeds to inform us how dog ownership is complicated by a dog's size.

When Chester, who is just approaching sixteen months of age, feels really rambunctious and runs about indoors, the house rumbles and creaks, he tells us, and we laugh at the mental picture of this huge friendly dog running rampant through any normal-sized house. Even a relatively large dog's tail could wreak havoc in a house not prepared for the vigorous sweep of said living-object-with-a-life-of-its own's lack of damage control.

Lively as he is, and curious, Chester is an obedient animal whose devotion to his master is obvious, as is his owner's pride in him. Riley's hysteria abates slightly, but doesn't entirely stop and we discuss briefly the death-wish propensity of small dogs to utter dire threats against 'strange' dogs whose size and umbrage against such yappers places them in deadly danger.

Our walk continues, and the snow accrues gradually on our dogs' jackets and our own. We're far removed, yet not all that far from the havoc playing itself out on area highways. We plod along in our nature preserve.