Vanishing White

The snow is slipping away, vanishing either into the ground or into the sky. Brown dots scar the once perfectly white landscape. It smells like spring, like dirt and grass and… something. It’s all dead but at the same time it’s becoming alive. There’s nothing green but it has an aroma of newborn grass. Perhaps my nose is so lacking the definition of greenery that it doesn’t recognize the stale smell of dead weeds as being not-alive. But nevertheless, I’m welcoming it. The snow is drifting away, leaving behind a mess of mud and leaves that I just can’t wait to explore.

Dirty Paws on White Knit Sweaters

Riley is gaining strength, back to her healthy self. How I love her so so much. Her sweet smile and little happy whimpers truly make my heart jump up and down with joy. Today when I walked out of the front door she came running- more so sliding- around the side of the house and up into my arms. Her dirty paws stained my white knit sweater. And her sloppy kisses left my hands wet and cold. But there’s something about her. I just have to kneel and hold her in my arms for a second. She tucks her sweet head into my chest and we sit there, curled together in a solemn happiness that only a sled dog and its dear human could know.

A First Lone Swan

The first swan flew over today. My darling was glancing out an open back window when the lone honk of the feathered white creature marked the still winter air. It flittered and fluttered its way through our still chilled air, sounding its call in the hopes of finding a familiar face. Unfortunately, he’s alone right now. He’s the first one to pass on the way north, but soon he will be visited by millions of neighbors. It’s quite extraordinary, but within a month hundreds of thousands of waterfowl will nestle in beside me in my tundra land. And the lone swan who visited me today, will feel overwhelmed with the amount of friends he lead this way.

Off With The Rope

As my darling arrived home he found me in tears. I felt so desperate, so heartbroken. And without one question, he put on his coat and told me to calm Riley as he cut the rope off. She's such a sweet dog. She never bites and listens to directions really well. She's scared of men- for good reason. But she snuggled up to me and let my darling get close enough to saw through the rope with a knife. She didn't yelp, she didn't even whimper. She kept completely still. And within a minute you saw the relief enter her eyes. She took a huge breath and layed down on the ground. And then she turned into the happy sled dog I had known her has. She began to eat and jump and play and smile. I'm terrified if she goes home she'll be put in the same situation. But I bought her a collar and put it on her, hoping that they will choose to use it instead of a brutally tight tough peice of string. Nevertheless, my heart is at ease. She's happily prancing in my backyard right now. And her mum (me) is so grateful... so so grateful that fate stepped in in time for me to spare her a surely brutally slow suffocating death.

The Demon Rope

I am in tears as I write this entry. Riley broke free today. The first place she ran was my front door. She's so starved. Her owners tied the rope around her neck so tightly she wouldn't be able to howl at night. And because of this she cannot eat. I tried so hard to get it off. But she kept crying out, it hurts her every time I touch it. And my heart is so broken right now. I haven't cried in so long, but there's nothing I can do and it hurts me. I'm trying to feed her, but she's so afraid. She's bruised and beaten. She curls up to me, but when I get up she fears something bad is going to happen and runs off. She eats a little, then chokes and tries very hard to hold the food down. Tears are streaming down my face. She hasn't been fed, or petted, or anything. And she's so hurt... she can't do anything right now. And my heart is so broken. So so broken. I can't watch my sleddog be treated like this, but there's nothing I can do. No one cares but me. And I'm so powerless. When she cries I cry too. And that damn rope hurts her so bad. It's tied so tight blood is staining the fur on her neck. And yet when I try to get it off, nothing works. And I am so scared, so desperate. My some act of fate I wish that rope would just break free. I can't watch her like this. How could anyone treat a dog like this? How could they think that's okay? She's so thin... so sad. And my entire world is crashing down.

The Sound of Water

The spring in my backyard is finally breaking free. I hear it like the whisper of a long lost friend. The ice is thinning and underneath I can hear the low gurgling of a long lost creek, beginning to flow. It’s growing strong and stronger, faster and faster, working its way to the surface. Someday it will wear away its outer layer of frozen particles. The sound of waterfalls will fill my backyard. And then the birds will come, the flowers will bloom, and within a matter of days spring will be here.

A Missing Piece

Rascal has all but disappeared. It’s been two weeks now. Two weeks since his appearance near my home has vanished into history. There are no blood stains, which welcomes my heart with the idea that perhaps he wasn’t shot for frolicking around causing mischief. But he is no longer here. His company doesn’t keep Riley warm at night. His sweet chubby little face doesn’t greet me with a long tongue. His playful nips don’t taunt my knees and butt anymore. My sensitive heart doesn’t want to think the worst, so I’ll just stay with the idea that he was sent to a home with lots of playful children who wanted to keep him in their yard. He’s a child-loving dog anyhow. He wouldn’t have been happy in simply my company. It’s only fair he was put with a bunch of fellow playful young’uns to frolic with.

Chipper and Spot

Chipper is losing his winter fur. He hasn’t been around much lately. I suppose he was hibernating for most of the winter. It sure is a sweet surprise to see his silly little antics entertaining my backyard. For the first time he meant ‘Spot’ my snowshoe hare. He jumped, chirped angrily, only to realize that the fluffy white creature was of no harm to him or his stash of food placed in the birdhouse on my smoke-house. Nevertheless, he’s keeping a watchful eye on the white snowshoe hare. He’s still skeptical, but he seems quite comfortable having a new neighbor. I wonder if he will ever welcome another squirrel to the village. It sure would be nice to watch him start a little spring-time family.

Practicing Cursive

I'm a writer, it's a fact that everyone who knows me or even of me knows. And yet my cursive is not of the perfection I would like it to be. My printing is wonderful, but my cursive is absent of use and in which has become quite sloppy. Now, as a writer, I cannot allow myself to have bad cursive. So with a black feather pen, a small bottle ink, and a notebook of parchment paper I have begun the coloniel art of practicing cursive. It's not as smoothe and natural as most writing is to me, so I feel quite awkward. But just as with every other good talent, I must repeat my mistakes over and over, making them a bit more successful each time. And here soon enough I will have the writing of a rich early American daughter.

Dark Blue Nights

The sun is scaring away the night. Our days are getting longer each day. The midnight sky is a shade of dark blue instead of black. These will be the last few nights I spend with the stars until autumn. Sometimes the moon will make a daytime appearance, but aside from that I will be absent of a nighttime for the next few months. Until June our days will continue to grow and grow. The sun will stay higher and set later. Spring is coming and it's finally beginning to feel like a change of seasons.

Spring Cleaning

Twice a year I have made a habit of becoming a charity case. Twice a year I try to rid myself of every 'extra' thing I own- including money, possessions, energy, and time. Midwinter, and the beginning of spring. Annually, in the spring I participate in a thing called spring cleaning. Except unlike others I do not hold a yard sale or pawn off old possessions. I donate things. I donate my extra time, my extra things, my extra energy- and most of all every single little last bit of my extra money. Twice a year I try to clear my savings. I feel as though too much money causes too many troubles. So, even though it is terribly hard to do, twice a year I clear my bank account and rebegin. And spring has begun, so my bi-annual clearing has begun. It's not that I have much to give away anyways. But it feels quite exhilerating. My parents spent their entire lives saving, and I always wondered how much more enjoyable their lives would have been if they would have just given it all up and had a little faith that fate would get them where they needed to go. I wonder no longer, for I myself live such a lifestyle. And let me tell you this- the act fate is a fantastic reward.

To Love A Woman

It's a taboo phase that so few people talk about. But I embrace it. I have fallen in lust with more women than men in my short life. It's a topic I haven't spoken of, only because since I began this diary- I have been with a man. But prior to that man I had been with many women. Perhaps fallen in and out of semi love with a few. And I find myself yearning more for the touch and companionship of a woman than of a man. It's a topic that is unfortunately disregarded as wrong and unethical. But in all reality it is merely an emotion. An emotion that I don't hide, nor do I feel the need to. Rather, I enjoy. Because within such a unique aspect of my love life I find more contentment than any stereotypical normal relationship could give me. And I find it quite disheartening that so many people choose to look at my light in a dark manner. If they took they time, they'd see that among the dark topic is a variety of misconceptions and haphazard rumers. They'd see that in all reality they had merely accidentally turned off the lights. And once the switch is flipped the topic isn't really so dark afterall.

Grass Dots On The Hillside

Last night as we drove to the spring to gather water for drinking and washing, I gazed up upon the hill that our little village resides. And I was surprised to see grass, yes grass. The sun had shown so brightly over the last few days that it had begun to dot our little tundra hill landscape with fluffs of old brown dead grass. And although it doesn't look like spring, it smells like. I took one deep breath after another. For the first time in six months I could smell the ground. It smelled... wet. But it smelled beautiful. It's amazing how something as small as a faint aroma can completely reinvigorate your emotions. But the smell of ground, fresh wet not-snow-covered ground, it's one of the most enlightening smells in the world. And I could spend an entire day after a long winter just breathing in that refreshing scent. All of the sudden, things are changing. And it happens quickly, so I always try to make a point to slow down and take every change in.

Sun Loving Dark Things

The snow is slowly melting. As winter leaves, the sun gets higher, the days get longer, and the weather slowly- very slowly- gets warmer. The sun is at twelve hours above the horizon today. Which means twelve hours to warm the ground and twelve hours to melt the snow. Only a few inches have drifted away, but the notice is evident. Some of the willow branches in the backyard look fuller, they don't seem so scraggly and alone. The lower branches are rising from the ground like a human waking from slumber. The footprints in the front yard to seem so deep, but rather like normal tracks on normal amounts of snow. The roads are beginning to melt off. And dark colored objects create warmth that pushes the snow away from them. Things like old logs and river banks always show their faces first. I think the sun loves them most.

Kissing Fishes

Molly, my oldest largest female blackfish, has really taken on a personality of her own. She owns the pond now. Every time I walk past the aquarium she meets me with her beautiful little eyes pressed to the glass. And then she watches my hands very carefully until they drop a treat. If I press my nose to the glass she comes up and presses hers. It's so sweet. Like a fish kiss. A part of me never thought that such an unrelatable animal- like a fish- could develope a personality, yet alone a seemingly fondness of a human. It's extraordinary. I can't believe how fearless she is. And how unique every single of her roommates are. Each one is different from another. It's utterly fascinating.

Easter Bunny

Today a bunny blessed the back window scenery with a visitor. In the early morning hours there it hopped and sat and ate and played. Insignificant, well no, an appearance of such a timid creature is never insignificant. But on Easter morning it seems just the littlest bit more significant than any other day. It seems the littlest bit more beautiful. And with it's white fur and big ears it blessed a lonely woman, still yearning for childhood, with the reminder that she can still gaze upon the world with the wonder of a five year old heart.

Two Sleddog's Love

We've had all sorts of dogs running around our home lately. And yesterday as I walked outside I was greeted with Rascal's happy face. I've never seen him get jealous of me, but as a stray walked up (tail wagging) Rascal got jealous. I couldn't help but feel proud. I have now not only found myself in the possession of one sled dogs heart, but two. It's a lovely feeling. I will take them and hold them dearly. Of course, I'll still open my arms to the strays who wonder up as well. I snuck a cuddle with the tail wagging pup Rascal scared off after he got distracted with a snack of lynx meat I through to the side.

Twenty Years Ago

Twenty years ago today at 5:00 in the morning a little girl was born. She was named Dawn, because she was born at sunrise. She grew up to love morning dew and the smell of chocolate next to a warm bubble bath. She's still a wild child, a lover of the world around her. She's filled with the curiousity of child yet knowledged in the ways of her elderly companions. I like to think that she knows she's beautiful, but her self-concious glances at a mirror tell her otherwise. She has her down days and her happy moments, just like everyone else. And today is her day, the day she came into the world, took her first breath, and grew one year from last year. She had a beautiful birthday, she always does. But the idea of growing up hasn't put her mind at ease. A room in her caravan is still dedicated to toys. Although she is officially no longer of youth, of teenage years, she still so dearly treasures the habits of toddlers and ten year olds.

Easter Means Fertility

My little girl is growing up, and the boy dogs in town are noticing. She, herself, could give a care less about any males in the neighborhood. But over the last week, she has drawn more strays to our yard than ever. And my heart just knows she's in heat. It kind of scares me. For so long she's been my little puppy, and now she's my little lady. Soon enough she'll be bringing more little ones into the world. I can't help but cross my fingers they are Rascal's. Together, their puppies would be utterly adorable. But aren't all puppies adorable?

A Fairytale Flight

It took my breath away. Bush planes are different. They're like flying beside the wind, not on it. They don't use the air, they flow with the air. And as we flew with the wind over a small section of tundra hills I glanced outside to see the sparkling snowflakes whisking by as they sparkled in the sun like the painting of a fairytale. So few people would ever get the chance to see such a thing. The sun has to be setting at just the right angle to allow your eyes to catch the sparkle from the window of a plane. The plane has to be flying at just the right speed so that the snowflakes move, but aren't a blur. The snow must be falling, but the clouds that produce the snow can't be blocking the sun. And I realized that. I realized how rare this opportunity was and I soaked it in like water to dried roots. I sat there with my frozen cheeks pressed to the scratched window pane. Taking in the last few moments of a warming Alaskan winter. The ground is still covered in snow. But such a light heavy snowfall is unlikely to happen again, especially not while I'm in flight. So I loved it, like the beating heart of a newborn child. I don't want to let go of the image. It's too pretty to let drift away into memory.