Always be specific

When I got home last night, snow was falling lightly:




This morning, there was over an inch of fresh snow on the ground, but it was so warm (high 20s F), that a lot of it was compacting and turning into slippery ice. I just made it up the slight grade I need to climb, and all of my neighbors and I drove into town very, very slowly.

I should have specified when I wished for snow, for temperatures to remain lower. When you are making wishes, always be specific!

Autumn is hanging out with me today while Linden has a little lump removed from her belly.


Please cross your fingers that the surgery goes smoothly, and that the thing is found not to be cancerous!

Last hurrah before heading into winter

Two friends, the dogs, and I had planned an out and back hike for the weekend. This is a winter-only trail, too boggy and muddy for summer use. Interlinked with the trail is a brand-new, more sustainable (i.e., drier) trail that had just been cut. Coincidentally, I learned of this new trail in an article published the very day before our hike. I have to say, the new trail was pretty unimpressive, although, being on the hillside, it will undoubtedly stay drier through the summers. I think it will take a few years for light regrowth to make the trail beautiful and scenic. For now, it is just an ugly, fresh scar on the hillside.

Heading out:


A run-down trapper cabin along the trail:


Chena Dome:


Angel Creek:


The new bridge, discussed in the article. The bridge was transported in three parts:


A beaver dam downstream from the bridge:

Dam cool!

The cabin we reserved. It was quite cushy, with sleeping platforms, a table, a wood stove, a camping lantern with several extra mantles, and a saw and maul for collecting/splitting wood to keep it stocked.


Prior campers had left sundry amenities such as spices, cooking oils, paper towels, matches, playing cards, and notes in the logbook. Apparently, the cabin is most popular among mushers and skijorers. People had made many notes about snow conditions, their dogs' names and personalities, and aurora sightings. We even saw several names we recognized.


I asked M to take a photo of me with the girls. Linden, of course, wanted to kiss me instead of look at the camera. Oh well.


The hilltops catch the last light of evening:


View from the outhouse:


All ready to head back the next day:


Ice is already forming on Angel Creek. We filtered water from it to top off our bottles before leaving:

As we drank it later, it was so cold it gave me brain freeze.

A last shot of Chena Dome:


I think that's our last hiking trip for the year! Our next trip, we'll be skiing!

My latest dog

I have a tendency to absorb strays into my pack. Fortunately, I'm not the sucker I was a few years ago, and I dutifully turn them over to the local animal shelter. This has enabled me to reduce my animal count down from a high of 9 down to 3, and one day 2 (Bunnistan will be dissolved upon the decease of its dictator, Miss Millie B. Doofus).

So this morning I was driving down Cripple Creek Road toward the highway to come into town, when I saw a husky running like a bat out of hell down the road ahead of me. I pulled up alongside her and looked down at my speedometer: 25 miles per hour. I cranked down the window, braked to a stop, and called out. "Hey dog!" The dog skidded to a stop, stood up on her hind legs, and put her paws on the windowsill with that big goofy smile that is unique to Alaskan huskies.

I jumped out and opened the hatchback, and she jumped right in and started barking and howling excitedly. So we were going straight to the animal shelter then. This creature was too excitable to remain long with me!

I turned her over, but if any of my local readers know anyone in the 'hood who's missing a husky, you know where to send them! Also... this is too sweet and good-natured of a dog to be put to sleep, so if she goes unclaimed, would someone please consider adopting her? I'll post a link to her petfinder page if she goes up for adoption. I'd love to have her, but as I said, I'm keeping my numbers down. And she's too hyper to fit into my small, quiet household.

She's a female, greyish blended tweed color (like a grey wolf), about 4-6 years old. Very active, very strong, very bouncy! I found her on Cripple Creek near Rabbit Run.

Edited to add a link to her "found dogs" page on the shelter website, and while I was posting, her page disappeared! So her owner must have claimed her! Yay! Here is the photo, anyway. Isn't she adorable?

Winter finally exhaled...

... after weeks of holding her cold, silent breath.

Yesterday, the first few flakes started drifting down, and this morning, it was snowing somewhat more earnestly, and a bit stuck to the ground.





That table? It's my isothermal snow collection device. :)

Gifts of friendship

One of the things I love most about the culture around here is how casual people are about sharing. I return to my car at the end of the day and find a bag of berries on the windshield from a friend who'd stopped by on her way back from hiking. My then-landlord stops by to make a repair and leaves behind a whole frozen salmon. I always make extra baked goods to take to campus and share with friends and colleagues.

Yesterday I got a call from friends who'd just gotten their moose for the year, asking if I'd like the scraps and bones for the dogs. Sometimes I think people forget that I only have two dogs! I informed them that I'd only take a bit for my girls, and pass the rest on to a friend of mine who, with his wife, rescues dogs from the local shelter that they can't bear to see put to sleep. They have a giant dog yard, but don't run a team. Their dogs are all pets.

I drove over to their beautiful ridgeline property after work and left with this:


You can't even see what we'd stuffed into trash bags into the back seat--the upper jaw and nose, the vertebral column (cut into sections, for my convenience), and two bags of fur-covered hide for the (outdoor) dogs to lay on. I asked, were they sure they wanted to pass on the upper jaw? They didn't want to make moose nose jelly? They declined.

As I left, they also loaded me up with packages of (human-grade) moose meat and salmon. On the way back to campus to drop off the moose bits to my friend, I bumped into another friend, and gave her half the salmon. She doesn't eat land animals, so I kept all the moose!

So now, in addition to the blueberries (one quart of which I still owe to a friend), cranberries, kale, pumpkin, and miscellaneous leftovers and pastries, these are in my freezer:


I certainly feel well-loved and well-fed! Yes, this is still modern America, and I can buy almost anything I want, from saffron threads to rice milk, angus beef to pomegranates to star fruit, at Freddies. But it makes me feel warm and fuzzy to pull these things out of the freezer in January. When it's cold and dark, and all the trees are dormant, and it seems all of nature is asleep, it's a reminder that God has blessed the Alaskan Interior with as much life and sustenance as anywhere else--you just have to plan ahead to enjoy it.

Here is a front-page article from the Minor News on Wiley, a sled dog who was found wandering stray, is being socialized to be a pet, but needs help with his medical bills.

Honor thy Fuzzies

Today is the Feast Day of St. Francis, patron saint of my hometown and great lover and defender of animals. If you can make it to a Blessing of the Pets ceremony, like our local one, I recommend it.

Here are my girls ree-laxing. Retirement is a tough life, eh?


And here we have Miss Millie B. Doofus, SuperAgent of the Second Law of Thermodynamics and Supreme Leader of the People's Independent Republic of Bunnistan:


Winter beers have started showing up. It's a unique time of year, to have both warmth and cold, darkness and light, summer and winter.


In honor of my fuzzy companions, I'll leave you with several quotes from the Monks of New Skete:

Dogs don't seem to like fences. The very presence of a barrier often elicits a fury of protectiveness that otherwise wouldn't be manifest. A dog barking wildly behind a fence one moment can easily turn into a friendly pooch the next: All that is necessary is the dropping of the barrier... Might we not glean a lesson from this? At the very least, the barrier we bark behind can sabotage the depth we seek with those we love. Drop the barrier and a new level of relationship and trust might occur.

Dogs possess an indomitable spirit that teaches right up to their last day. It is as if they stubbornly refuse to concede that life can be anything other than a gift to which they must respond. The wagging tail gives it away: even an illness as serious as cancer has no effect on them when a favorite ball is involved... at least for a while. The focus remains fixed, and the usual enthusiasm will be manifest until they can simply push themselves no longer. They won't let go until every worthwhile moment of life is sucked dry. Therein lies their nobility: Dogs are an homage to life.

Photos 'round the 'hood

This is such an austere time of year. We've lost the explosive, colorful beauty of summer and fall, but we don't yet have the snow to bring the gentle loveliness of winter. We have instead a harsh, steely sky and nekkid trees, and brown leaves blowing around the ground. Temperatures swing by as much as 40F/24C degrees from day to night, or even from one day's high to the next.



As I have my flamingos, my neighbors around the block have their geese in house dresses:




A few aspens still have their golden leaves: