Portraits of the Fuzzies

Mr. B. takes naps in his litterbox. Yup.


Millie does NOT like the flash.


Linden is a goober.


Autumn is very ree-laxed.


Apparently, my hometown is having its first Winter storm. I know it's a pain to deal with, but all the same, how badly needed the rain is, and what fun! I remember how I used to look forward to the Winter rains. And I remember how storms used to keep me up at night when I was a little girl. I'd listen to the wind and rain lashing the windows, and the wooden floors in our rooms would creak as they settled in the changing humidity into the cooling night. Our home was a relatively modern townhouse, but I, like a young Catherine Morland, had stronger imagination than sense.

Harsh weather in San Francisco is loud and visually violent--wind and rain whip everything to a frenzy. You hang on to umbrellas and point them into the wind to right them after they have been blown inside-out. Here in Fairbanks, harsh weather is very quiet. A photo wouldn't even show an uneducated observer "harsh" (unless it's a photo of a thermometer), because the harshness is due entirely to the extreme temperature. In Fairbanks, harshness is hushed, still, and bathed in deceptively gentle, weirdly beautiful, soft, eldritch light.