A good week in an Alaska summer is a week where my calendar is filled with notes about all the things I did that weren't chores or commitments. I hope they give me memories which I can arrange into stories for later tellings. Of course, the longer I wait to write about something, the less I remember the smells of the tiny wildflowers in the high country, the chill of the wind through my sweater and the ache in my muscles the next day. How beautiful it all is! Maybe this will suffice:
Puffballs were ready for harvest.
I breathed in their fresh, almost citrus scent,
imagined meals and Jon's delight
that I've joined him in the foraging.
I breathed in their fresh, almost citrus scent,
imagined meals and Jon's delight
that I've joined him in the foraging.
Thursday, we hiked up Wolverine Peak, into the clouds that
sometimes obscured our city below. So near; so far.
sometimes obscured our city below. So near; so far.
And from the peak, below the cloud ceiling,
saw two valleys beyond: Long Lake and Williwaw Lake.
Were we ravens, we could fly beyond the lakes to wilderness and glaciers.
saw two valleys beyond: Long Lake and Williwaw Lake.
Were we ravens, we could fly beyond the lakes to wilderness and glaciers.
Mountains, layer upon layer
I can imagine that it is all wild here, high above the city
where the plants have evolved with the wind.
I can imagine that it is all wild here, high above the city
where the plants have evolved with the wind.
We came upon an invisibleness of ptarmigan;
A hen and seven chicks in their summer plumage.
They scattered and disappeared
among the rocks and lichen and
sweet-scented alpine flowers
A hen and seven chicks in their summer plumage.
They scattered and disappeared
among the rocks and lichen and
sweet-scented alpine flowers
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