I don't want to change the landscape, I love it just the way it is. But my green thumb is overly ambitious when it comes to this uninhabitable tundra. So today my darling took me to the top of a hill where a grove of alder and willow bushes sat quietly in the sun. And we planted ten black walnut trees. Whether or not they will grow is really unimportant. I wanted to put them in a place where children will see them, be able to watch them grow, and eventually be blessed with the yummy knuts they drop to the ground. Mother nature must have been pleasently surprised because as we walked around exploring, we came across two servings of wild spinach- just there, awaiting our arrival so that we make pick them and eat them tonight. So we got down on our knees and scavengered the ground for little bits of green. I can't help but chew on fireweed shoots- they're savory and my stomach adores them. So inbetween cutting bits of spinach I filled myself on fireweed. I can't help but believe that such a wonderful little hunger-filling adventure was a blessing from the earth. A long winter without greens is quite depressing, but tasting the first few fresh shoots is worth the eight months wait.
Sun Staying With Me
The sun is at eighteen hours in the sky. I missed him this winter, the sun. He's a dear happy face that can truly brighten a landscape- no pun intended. And with his help in the coming weeks everything will change. But as for now I am enjoying the brown grass and the gleaming smile of his big yellow face. I like the way his rays come down and hug my pale skin. I'm much to fair to play in his light too long, but the temptation of his welcoming embrace is often too much to resist. And for the next four months I shall frolick in the utter delight of his grand spotlight on the land. He'll be with me 24/7, and I find his company quite a pleasure.
A River In Labor
The croaks and moans of the river can be heard for miles. When the huge chunks of ice shift the ground vibrates. She radiates her pain through the night. It's a quick pain, it will pass. I imagine that my dear friend, the Yukon, is not so much breaking apart, but more so coming together. She cries out in the same motherly gasps of a woman in labor. As the ice breaks and shifts, tearing holes in the landscape, the river is being born. The pain is hard to watch. I must be one of the few people who can look at a river breaking apart and feel it's overwhelming sense of hurt. The way the sharp jagged edges move across her hurts me. And yet, when all the pain passes something wonderful happens. Water flows. For the first time in seven months the blue streaks of waves will be seen and heard. And out of the slow, yet quick, process of a winter river vanishing, comes a summer river filled with life.
The Flood
The ice on the Yukon is slowly starting to crack and shift. Water is filling atop and then sliding under to meet the rush of the force headed to the Bering Sea. I don't like this part, the floods. They don't reach my home, but when I peer off to the south side I see that the banks have overflown and water has rushed into the landscape. It's a sad fact of mother nature that the wildlife on the other side will have a long fight ahead of them. As the water nears their ankles, the sad rabbits, moose, and even fox will begin the excruciating battle they are about to face. As the water rises, panic sets in. I've seen it strewn on the faces of newborn calves, of mother moose that try so desperately to flee but are caught away in the rush of overly powerful waters.I wish I could save them, spare them the fight. The swim and try until eventually fatigue overtakes them... and their story ends in on swift movement of mother nature. She's cruel, you know. They say people and guns are horrible. But the games mother nature plays could easily break a cruel human's heart.
First Spring Yawn
The snow is fading quickly now. Dribbling down the old dirt roads, into creeks, and eventually the river. I can sit in my front yard, I can play by the birdfeeder in the opposite area, and I can walk- just walk- on plane mud ground. Waterfowl have all migrated. And something magical is happening. You can't see it, or hear it, or smell it. But you can feel it. The ground is shifting. Waking after an old winter. Yawning it's first big breath of the early morning. Grass has yet to bloom. Ice has yet to completely vanish. But it's here. Spring has officially arrived, and it's taking the land by the hand and running wild into the summer.
Dinner Falling
My darling took me hunting today. About this time every year we both begin to yearn a meat aside from the winter staples like pike, moose, and beaver. So alas, we went off in a venture for swans and ducks. Like I have said before, I have a heart too weak to witness an animal fall out of the sky. The sound of the gunshort terrifies be each time. I can't look at the lifeless beings until I am sure their soul has passed. But, I do it all. I enjoy the act of taking the karma of my food into my own hands. Of ensuring that the things I eat were taken in both a spiritually and ethically correct way. I appreciate sitting outside for hours in solitude and silence. I often take a book or a sketchpad. But most of the time I find myself simply lost in what's around me. Today we had many visitors... which means many gunshots. Two snow geese and one yellow foot fell. I didn't watch. It's such a blessing nevertheless. After a winter absent of the taste of waterfowl, I felt overwhelmed with joy when my next dinner fell from the sky.
Seeing Waterfowl
The waterfowl are slowly arriving. The days haven't become warmer, so just as the bears are slow to wake, the birds are slow to migrate. The north wind is frigid and terribly hard to fly against. So many of the feathered creatures are staying south for a little while longer. I have seen a few flocks, heard a few quacks and honks. It's nice to see them, it ensures spring will come... eventually. I hate to wait any longer. I yearn for some sort of liveliness in the landscape. Even a weed would be welcome at this point in time.
Waiting For Melting Snow
The weather has stayed stagnant. I'm stuck in a revolving circle of half snow, half brown ground, and cloudy skies giving me just enough light to tell the difference. Although the sun is staying longer, the days are getting no warmer. I haven't written because I have had no inspiration to write. In fact, the days have been quite empty. I've been drawing, reading, writing fairytales, and playing with my dear little sleddog. But aside from the normalities of my every day life, absolutely nothing of interest has occurred. I am merely writing so that I don't forget to write. Keeping touch with my diary so that I don't forget it's there. I'm not wishing for something amazing to happen. I'm quite content with ordinary. And for now I truly appreciate the simplicity of having nothing to do but wait for the snow to melt.
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