The holidays were busy with various family events with Smiths, Slushers, Buttons, and Salzmans on the Front Range of Colorado, but we managed to visit with Rudolph (in his albino phase) between feasts.
With my brothers and their wives (& one ex-girlfriend?) on Christmas Day, plus a smoochy black lab named Shadow.
My step-mother Kay knitted these sweaters for my sisters-in-law and myself over the last couple of years.
Celebrating a Button Christmas on Boxing Day. Rudolph blessed the gathering.
You would think we shut ourselves inside for a month, but we did get out a little between the middle of November and the middle of December. I just wasn't photographing much. The temperatures were cold in that period and I was conserving warmth in my hands when I was out. We also received some beautiful snow falls during those weeks. They followed several days of ice fog, which had coated trees and shrubs in a thick coat of hoar frost. That frost helped to hold the snow to the trees.
While skating on X Lake in Talkeetna a few weeks ago, we came across an area where air bubbles had been trapped in the ice. I'm trying to catch up on processing some photographs and get started on some photo Christmas presents. Here are some bubble photographs for Thanksgiving viewing. I hope you enjoy the day with good friends and family.
November can be a tough month in Alaska. Usually there's little snow and little sun. The days are gray and the nights are deeply dark. Still it remains one of our favorite times to explore because the cold makes places that are inaccessible all summer hard and firm and great for hiking. Our friend Pam in Talkeetna organizes weekend rambles throughout the year. On Halloween (no, not technically November but pretty close) she suggested hiking in the Peters Hills. Fourteen of us, plus Bhikkhu, carpooled out past Petersville to tromp across the tundra. A few inches of snow had fallen, which made it easier to cross the dwarf willow and grassy tussocks. The day was brilliant and clear, possibly in the high 20s, though a stiff Arctic breeze from the north made it difficult to tell. The reward for braving the cold and wind was looking at sculpin under the ice of a high lake and reaching a view of the Alaska Range (Denali on the right in the above photo). After a beer at the Forks Roadhouse, we went to Rick and Kathy Ernst's where Kathy had prepared a meal for 14 on an hour's notice because Trapper Creek Pizza, our original dinner destination, was closed for the month.
The following weekend we went back to Talkeetna for more rambling. On Saturday Paul played ice bocce with a group on Lake 5. Bhikkhu and I hiked out to the Susitna River with Ellen, Kathy, Molly, and Loki. We shuffled along clear ice on Birch Creek slough and the edge of the river. Unlike the previous weekend, the day was gray and calm. More typical November. B and Molly found salmon carcasses to nibble (before we chased them off over and over), and Loki and I both wondered if the ice was really thick enough. I could see to the bottom and it looked like a thin layer of ice over clear air.
On Sunday we joined a group at Talkeetna Lakes. Seven of us skated for an hour on X Lake before a large group arrived for a hike. Then we switched to hiking boots and started on the trail around X and Y Lakes. About halfway around, we dropped off the trail to a frozen wetland. On the other side, we entered a forest along a creek. Our destination suddenly appeared in the midst of the birch and cottonwood - a huge erratic boulder left by the glaciers.
Yesterday Paul, B, and I rambled around Far North Bicentennial Park near our Anchorage home. Other feet, skis, and fat tire bikes have tramped down the recent snow falls so the hiking was still good. Campbell Creek is freezing from the sides and bottom. In some places, ice falls are forming and the creek has overrun its banks. The cold winter day was a surprisingly colorful pallet of golden grasses, deep blue water, and green spruce. 
When we adopted Bhikkhu, they said he was a mix of a poodle and a bichon frise -- a Bich-Poo. We didn't really care - we weren't looking for a purebred dog or even one of those breeds. We just thought he was cute and sweet. He had been groomed like a poodle.
We let his hair grow out and admired his curls. Some time over the summer we decided that he was more likely a Bog Poodle or a Salmon Hound. I bathed him every few weeks and tried to keep his curls from matting.
Eventually he needed to get a haircut and we took him to a groomer. By then we thought he probably is a purebred bichon but we didn't need to have him groomed like one. Just an all-over cut, maybe a little shorter on his legs. The groomer managed to detangle the mats on the backs of his legs and on his stomach; and she cut him like a Bichon Frise. That's what he was for Halloween. 
Last night's movie was a reminder, however, that as tourists we let ourselves be distracted by the architecture and scenery and overlooked the poverty and social problems that these countries faced then and still face. The movie, while entertaining, is a commentary on the struggle of Czechs to accept immigrants and on the black market that runs on either exploiting the immigrants or importing them illegally. The gypsies, or more appropriately, Romanies, have wandered this part of the world for centuries seeking a home and acceptance. That was clear when we arrived, especially at the large train and bus stations. Romanie women and children approached tourists with open hands.
While some Czechs have never accepted the Romanies, they are now confronted with people fleeing Asia and Africa in search of employment and a better life. The resulting changes in neighborhood character and a continuing struggle by some to recover from the economic effects of communism cause some of the movie characters to blame the immigrants for all past, current, and future downfalls of Czech society. At the beginning of the movie, it seems clear who is the bigot and who is 'nobly helping' the refugees. Events show, however, that prejudice is lurking just beneath the surface for all. All, that is, except the person who left the Czech republic for sunnier shores.
I thought the message that getting away is the only way to escape the bigotry was a little harsh toward the Czech people. The country to which that character emigrated has its own prejudices against the dark-skinned people who were there first. If we all have to flee to someplace without prejudice to change ourselves, where will we go? I do agree that sometimes travel gives someone a different perspective that you can't get by staying home. But if we can't change ourselves in our homeland, we'll all be wandering lost and disaffected like the Romanies.
When I was attempting to bike to work four days in a row two weeks ago, I was saving a treat for myself on the fourth evening. That was going to be the evening that I rode leisurely home, on my mountain bike, stringing together all the creek-side bike paths and park trails that I could. Because I only got through three days of bike commuting, my last ride was a dark trip with a laptop on my back.
The great park ride came on the Monday evening the next week. The light was golden, the trees were golden, I felt golden. I pedaled the same old lovely Chester Creek trail, the leaves blanketing the gray strip of pavement. At the end of that trail, I crossed on the pedestrian bridge over Northern Lights, went around Goose Lake, over to APU and then the Native hospital, and across Tudor on that pedestrian bridge. I continued past the Trail Closed signs on the re-routed Campbell Creek greenbelt trail to reach the Old Rondy trail into Far North Bicentennial Park (FNBP) and the Campbell Tract. Soon I left construction and traffic noise behind.
we all sleep well on the sailboat
could i have pedaled away from whoever made these tracks? 
North fork of the Eklutna River
Happy sailors on an unbelievable September day on Resurrection Bay
Paul in the cockpit of our little boat with a much larger boat on the other side of the dock. 
I've been an avid vegetable gardener for the last 12 years or so. Something about providing our own food just feels good and right. And it's another great reason to spend more time outside in the summer.
Bhikkhu showing off part of our harvest
Bhikkhu carrier = 1 old external frame pack This Sunday was a little drizzly but I really wanted to go for a hike. I suggested Rabbit Lakes trail on the edge of town. It's a little over 4 miles to the lake, mostly above treeline, and we've only hiked it once, several years ago now. The first few miles are steadily up hill and the last bit is fairly level, slightly rolling. It seemed like a good hike with Bhikkhu if he got a ride up the steepest parts.
Thus was born the Bhikkhu Carrier. Paul quickly converted an old external frame pack by stuffing a 12-pack beer box into the lower half and I added a towel for cushion. The towel would also serve a dual purpose of drying B off if the rain picked up. The top flap on the pack could be loosely fastened to keep the rain off his back. Paul could stash snacks and water in the outer pockets.
Bhikkhu hiked up the first mile or so with us and then Paul carried him for a couple of miles. The higher we got, the wetter and windier it became. A friend of mine ran past us down hill, trying to get warm. Berry pickers on the slopes had their hoods up and seemed like they were kneeling on the ground as much to stay out of the wind as to find the berries.
When we crested out past the 3 mile mark, Paul observed that the weather was much the same as the last time we'd hiked this trail. That time we had returned to the car soaked. We agreed that continuing on head down into the wind and rain didn't sound like much fun. The lake was just out of view but the black clouds gathering over it were plain. We pulled Bhikkhu out of the pack and the three of us hiked back down the trail to the dry car.
B jumping drainage ruts on the Ptarmigan Creek Trail 
Paul and I biked part of the Primrose Creek trail up to Lost Lake. It was not one of my stronger performances. At least the woods were pretty.
Bhikkhu found a moose femur in the campsite. A little slice of doggie heaven. The bone was almost as big as he is.
On Sunday we hiked the Ptarmigan Creek trail before joining the long lines of cars wanting to beat the traffic.
Paul's sister Mary and her husband Gerry arrived on the 6th. Their visit prompted our first outing on the Winner Creek Trail and handtram near Girdwood.
We stayed at a cabin in Thumb Cove for 4 nights. Mary & Gerry kayaked for the first time and Gerry spent many hours trying to catch fish from the shore and kayak.
We climbed to a glacier one day and bushwacked up a creek another.
The last Sunday of the month was the annual Anchorage garden tour. Friends Pam & Roger from Talkeetna and their neice from Oregon joined us for our annual bicycle tour of the gardens. Paul and I pedaled over 41 miles to see some beautiful backyards in our fair city.
And the little dog became a hiker, lost some weight, got curlier, and is totally spoiled. We saw his twin at one of the gardens and have decided he's a purebred Bichon Frise.
