Big Puppies

Rascle and Riley are getting big. Their original owners have all but given up on them. It's a lost cause now. My landlord would never let them reside on his ground. Here in the summer when the police go around to patrol the dogs, most likely all that will be left is two bitter bloodspots on the melting snow in my front lawn. They're just huge playful puppies- not even full grown dogs. Everytime I walk outside there they are- smiling and running up to collide haphazardly into my side. Then they jump and cry and jump and bite. I've been pulled down more than once. They're less like dogs and more like wolves. I can't help but adore them. They protect my land, they protect me. No visitor can sneak by unknown. It's calming in a way. Even their barks in the middle of the night don't bug me. I merely know that if such a snarl came from the dark shadows of my small caravan walls- no intruder will dare take another step. It's reassuring. I've said it before- I would do anything to keep their company forever. They've become as much a part of my family as my brother. They mean so much to me.

Flying Wild Alaska

We fly around for our job- my darling and I. Little pay, but the adventure is worth the financial hardships. Bush planes are different. It's not the "Flying Wild Alaska" show. Then again, without television I have yet to witness that show. I'm just assuming it's not the same. It's not dramatic. Yes, the wind pulls us around from time to time. Sometimes gusts throw us sideways. It sounds terrifying, but it's not. You see, there's something about flying out here that is calm- always calm. No matter the weather or the conditions, flying in rural Alaska is at peace. The scenery does it, I think. You look below and watch as moose and wolves play. The scenery changes quick. For a while flat tundra swamps, then hills with willow, then mountains with spruce. No two miles are identical. No corn-fields, or roads, or carved out human establishments. Only land- for as far as the eye can see in any direction. And there you are, all bundled up in a freezing cold metal capsule, but yet warm with the idea of witnessing this part of the world in a way so few people will ever be able to.

Four Leaf Banana Tree

I’ve accomplished the impossible! My art room/ gardening room/ library/ collection room, has now filled with the huge leaves of a banana tree. I spoke of it a while back. Unsure whether or not I would keep it alive. I have lemon trees, pineapple plants, lavender… all sorts of interesting non-Alaskan things. And my banana tree has sprouted four leaves and readjusted them to face the bright light I have it hanging under. Wow- it’s magnificent. Who knew that one could raise a tropical fruit tree in the arctic? I love it. I would really like to name it, but I fear my darling would disown me. For I seem to name everything. But this banana tree is a fighter! He deserves a name. Quite a fellow he is. Standing tall and proud in a place that even moss has trouble surviving.

Dance On Ice

Take me to the frozen riverside. I don't know how to skate, but I like the textured ice. It's my place to frolick about. The smooth surface of my mukluk bottoms would typically make me fall, but the ice' jagged edges grip to my toes like hands rising up from the waters. I like the way the sun's rays dance along the crystals the same way my little legs bounce into the air. I've always walked pigean-toed, but I never felt odd. It makes my childlike prance seem a bit more balanced. I can't help but feel if my feet pointed straight I wouldn't be able to play the way I do now. So with my crooked little feet and my careful little walk, I'll play on the edge of the mile wide waters- letting them tickle my toes through my caribou souls.

Pessamistic Cold

Somedays I think the cold is looming because it dwells in places of negativity. My mind has not been as upbeat as usual. I fight quite hard to find the inner peace my brain craves. For the most part I'm content. But alas this cold is eating away my warmth and leaving the coldest parts of me exposed. I shunned children today. How could I do such a thing? They arrived at my doorstep and I sent them away with heavy hearts. I don't know what has come of me. I'm not the kind to think I'm too busy for kids. In fact I typically drop everything around me to spend time in the presence of innocence. I do not know why today I chose to look the other way and busy myself with adult-like stuff. It's quite a shame that I did. For perhaps their company is exactly what I needed...