Explaining Tundra

Explaining the tundra to someone who has never seen or felt tundra is quite difficult. When you walk on it, your feet feel like they are bouncing in and out of a huge mattress. It looks like a perfectly manicured lawn covered in hundreds of species of mushrooms and moss and lichen. Imagine a decorative terrarium, except it covers the entire landscape, not just an office bookshelf. Up close it looks magical- like a clip from Alice In Wonderland. There are little itty bitty hills made of moss, and there are tiny trees made of blueberry bushes. I sometimes just lay on the ground and stare off into the next few yards with amazement of all it beholds.

The Thankful Salmon

Today would have been a typical fishing day, had it not been for one specific salmon that I pulled out of the net. I'm not a typical commercial fisherman, I love and treasure every scaley creature I catch. I'm soft with them and whisper messages of thanks in their ears. But today I pulled a beautiful chum from the river. The net was caught in her gills... and I could see it was causing her the most sincere pain. I was extra careful with her. And when I began to carefully pull the mesh from her cheeks, she calmed down, and looked up at me, and said thank you with her eyes. It's like the first time I've ever known an animal knew I respected and honoured their life. It was touching and magical and a river-story moment I will never forget.

Choppy Clouds

Choppy clouds have loomed over the landscape for a week now. They tease the sun and allow miniscule amounts of it's light through. And they periodically rain... or should I say reign, over the village. I don't know if I'm beginning to dislike them or not. Some days I am not fond of their company, while other days I quite enjoy their solumn slow pace.

Never-Ending Scenery

The landscape south of my village is so absent of hills that miles seperate my eyesight from the horizon. It's a flattened area, seemingly never-ending. And yet, it is impossibe to travel over. The river is so wide that the cottonwoods on the opposite bank look as small as victorian dollhouse ornaments. And once you reach the cottonwoods, the bank is so steep that it's virtually impossible to climb. And if, by some impossible chance, you find yourself atop that bank, you will take five steps and find yourself beside a lake or slough too wide to cross. In which, I can only admire such a place, with the sincerest curiousity of what it beholds, from the view outside my window.

Cool North Breeze

Every tree, every blade of grass, every current berry bush is green right now. Everything is alive and beautiful. It's hard to imagine it all fading away this month, but autumn is evident. The weather is cooling, wind beginning to blow from the north and west. I feel like summer just arrived and now it's fleeting so fast. Even the sun has begun to set. I love knit sweaters and woodstoves, but I'm terribly ad my wildflower-plucking days were so short lived.

Lazy Rainy Day

My finger pressed to the window and I traced the path of the raindrop as it fell to the sill. I don't think I know why cloudy days give me a sense of sleepiness. I like to believe it's because the clouds give the world a darkness that makes a bed a worthy home. But I think it's something different. It's the way the entire landscape closes up when it rains. The flowers don't bloom, the birds don't chirp, the fox and lynx don't wonder- and nor do their prey. The trees stand still, the sun doesn't seem to rise or set- just sit there somewhere in the clouds in a direction you can't quite tell through the haze. The children don't play the house doesn't feel alive and neither do I. It's like the world around me is having a lazy day and telling me that it's okay for me to as well.

Sharing Berries With Bears

Berry season has begun, and my baskets are already being filled. I always reach the salmonberry grounds and find myself taking as many tastes as I can. I love the way I can pluck them right from the tundra and eat them side by side with the bears. And there are a many bears this year. The salmon run was slow to come, so the bears are avidly awaiting the arrival of the berries. They like them perhaps even more than I do. And we share the same harvesting grounds, so it's only my luck that a majority of my berries have been stolen by something with very big tracks. But nevertheless I have gathered a basketful and a stomacheful and I am content. I'll leave the rest for the big furry creatures that need them a bit more than I do. For I am not blessed enough to sleep through the winter, I only hibernate at night.