oct 15 falling in love all over again

A week in the Adirondacks of New York and I've fallen in love with my home state all over again.

an idyllic back yard

Mom and Jack consult a map at the fire tower on the top of Azure Mountain

view from the top of Azure Mountain

Higley Flow (a flow refers to an inundated area above a dam.  Higley is along the Raquette River, which has many dams)

Mom and Jack have an apple tree that was dropping some big delicious apples.  This was the biggest - one pound!

scenic North Country farm house

16 nov 14 campbell creek

This bridge wasn't so great for walking either -- the far end was in the creek.

1 oct 14 golden pond

This lake is very near the highway that I often travel for work meetings.  It's a welcome respite at the end of the day.

I have again come home

through miles of sky

from hours of abstract talk

in the way of modern times

when humans live in their minds

and the world, forgotten, dies

into explanations.

Wendell Berry

an excerpt from 1992

A Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997

24 sep 14 harvest

My little apple tree had a good harvest this year and here's the last few raspberries, too.

The first artichoke I've ever grown!

Sunflower catching the last rays of the evening.

21 sep 14 glorious cottonwood

The poor cottonwood is under-appreciated in Alaska but the row across the street redeem their bad habitat of dropping cotton in early summer by turning a glorious gold each fall.  

14 sep 14 biking fall colors

I took a break from painting to bike through golden fall.

* check out the slide show in the right column showing the progress on our little Talkeetna barn.

11 nov 12 sunny cold coast

golden sun and grasses on the kincaid coast on a cold november afternoon

sep 11 golden Alaska

So quickly the sunlight of long summer days is replaced by the golden glow of leaves ...

27 aug 11 hunting season

Fall in Alaska brings many into the woods in hunt of the elusive bolete. Last weekend we came away empty-handed from an evening walk in the park nearby. So the next day we bicycled to the far side of the park to an area that gets less visitation. We managed to fill Paul's bike rack bag with orange and birch boletes.

Paul is convinced that the increased popularity of harvesting mushrooms in the last few years makes it more difficult to find boletes in the parks and that the best hunting may be in neighborhoods. He may be right. We found 4 beautiful king boletes in our neighbor's yard and the two birch trees outside our kitchen window have provided four nice birch boletes so far.

19-21 nov 10 pennsylvania color

A week before Thanksgiving I flew back East. My first stop was the Philadelphia area to attend a workshop at Pendle Hill, a Quaker center. Clerking is a form of facilitation that is part of the Quaker decision making process. I've wanted to take this workshop for two years to not only become more effective at our Anchorage Quaker Meeting but also in my work, where I facilitate a lot of meetings. Wouldn't it be nice to feel centered, confident, and joyful in all of those meetings?

I left a gray/brown and white world in Anchorage. We already had more than a foot of snow on the ground at home. In Pennsylvania, fall hadn't quite ended. I felt like I'd stepped back in time. The Pendle Hill campus is about 23 acres and I circled it daily on the perimeter trail, basking in the glow of the remaining leaves on the gingko and maple trees.

The trees that brought me to a halt were the Japanese maples. I collected a dozen flaming leaves over the weekend and scattered them on the desk in my room. I even enclosed a few in a card home to Paul. There is nothing like this in the Alaska fall scene. After the workshop ended on Sunday, I walked to the Swarthmore Campus in the next village over. From the train* I had noticed a large woods next to campus and Pendle Hill provided trail maps. I walked along Crum Creek, dodging wet labrador retrievers and runners. I crossed under the railroad bridge and toured the holly collection of Scott Arboretum. Then I walked through the campus, which reminded me of my alma mater Cornell. When I noticed that the sun was getting low, I headed back into the woods for a last quiet evening at Pendle Hill.


*if I'd taken any train photos, I'd post an entry about how wonderful it was to use real public transportation (something else we don't have in Alaska). Amtrak took me north to Utica, NY, to spend Thanksgiving with family.

2 oct 10 harvest

In many ways, this was a disappointing summer for gardening. The sun and heat of late May transitioned to one of the rainiest, cloudiest summers on record. Our vegetable garden site has become shadier over the years as the birch trees around the perimeter of our backyard have grown. And I've been busy with other activities and not spending the time I should to feed the plants and the soil and to hunt the slugs. The latter loved this summer -- between the constant moisture and my lack of vigilance, they had a long party.

At one point in August I almost gave up on getting much out of the garden. I was even buying lettuce at the farmer's market because my leafy greens weren't large enough to harvest yet and I'd already thinned as much as I could for baby green salads.

But being a gardener is partly about being an optimist, and I stuck it out. I visited the Alaska Botanical Gardens and took inspiration for next year in their edible landscape plantings. I read The Conscious Gardener by Alaskan Ellen Van deVisse, and tried to pick more slugs while not thinking of them with vengeance. I also took note of what veggies had done well -- red cabbages for the fall and winter, a beautiful red sorrel that dresses up every salad, and abundant nasturtiums.

But the real surprise and joy are the apples. I received this tree at least five years ago in a tree adoption lottery used to be held in Anchorage every spring. The little tree produced a few apples the first couple of years, then maybe a dozen, and two dozen last year. This spring on the Veggie Roll I learned that I should remove some of the spring buds to get bigger apples. I finally got around to doing that in late June and was surprised at the number of buds. Surely they wouldn't all develop into fruit. But they did. The final tally -- 103 apples!

Most of these fit within the hole formed by touching my thumb to my middle finger. They're beautiful sitting in a red bamboo bowl on the counter. The slightly tart flavor will be perfect for applesauce, one of the tastes of fall from my upstate New York childhood. These little red-golden globes may be the shiny lining in the garden in this wet summer.

23-26 sep 10 Eklutna Camaraderie

Once again after a summer of disappointing weather, the Alaska Dirt Divas were treated to a sunny, golden weekend at the Serenity Falls Cabin. Our gamble two years ago to push the weekend later in September has become the tradition and we haven't been sorry yet. We added a night this year to include the Equinox and Full Moon in our long weekend.


Three nights gave us time to explore the canyon by foot one day and relax in the sun another. As always, more food than we could eat, though we tried. Morning workouts by Stacey were a justification for the gorging for some of us. Maggie's tai chi was a welcome stretch and relaxation for some of us who did Stacey's workout.


Rose showed me how to balance rocks. We stacked rocks into cairns on a dry stretch of river bottom one afternoon. She is able to stack off center yet keep the weight balanced through a center plumb line. I was just happy to achieve a little balance in the autumn sun with good friends.

Here are more photos from the weekend:

nov 09 early winter rambles

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.

From the here the group split. Some returned to the trail. The rest of us, listening to some crazy voice, opted to hike out up the creek through a canyon. This route took us through high golden grasses, across frozen oxbows of the tiny creek, through spruce muskegs, along birch hillsides, and into thickets of alder. Bhikkhu made most of the return trip in my arms or Paul's jacket because the undergrowth was thick and his back legs slipped into a hole in the ice at one crossing. Just as the sun set and we wondered if our leader really knew where he was going, the thin asphalt ribbon of Comsat Road appeared ahead. Pam and Roger hosted the entire ensemble and more for soup and potluck at their house.

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.

For more photos of the Peters Hills (and the Bhikkhu pack in action again), click here.

25 oct 09 czech the times

Twelve years ago today we were decompressing from a 5 week trip to Eastern Europe and a 5 hour trip across Denver in a snowstorm from the airport to our house. We've been thinking about that trip since dinner last night. Some coincidence, or possibly subconscious thinking, had us making borscht from local root vegetables for dinner and renting a Czech film, Up and Down, for the evening's entertainment.

We have fond memories of that fall trip ... European castles and palaces around the Czech republic, visiting the birth place of pilsner, fall colors on the Danube bend in Hungary, small wineries in hillsides where it cost more to use the public bathroom than to buy a glass of wine, the open-air market in Vienna. We had wanted to visit the Czech Republic and Hungary before they became too-Westernized and as expensive as the rest of Europe.

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.

fall 09 highlight #3 evening bikes & walks

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.

This evening all I carried was bear spray in the bottle cage and water, a snack bar, and my 35 mm camera in my pack. I didn't pull out the camera until I hit Old Rondy because I knew I would stop often once I started clicking. And I did. At the first creek bridge, I photographed trees, the creek, geese flying overhead, and leaves on the ground. Every time I came to a spot that the sun hit, I had to stop to capture the golds. Old Rondy to Salmon Run, to Viewpoint, up to Service High, then the multi-use trail paralleling Abbott Road and finally, to my neighborhood. With stops for photos, the entire trip home was almost two hours, twice the normal commute time.

A few evenings later I took Bhikkhu back to FNBP for a walk in the evening light. We walked a few of my favorite little singletracks that cut across the main trails. My destination was the highest hill on the lit loops, but a mama moose with two calves were already enjoying that view. We managed to find several other places where the evening light made the fall foliage glow. Dusk sent us back to the car with the hope that we'd have a few more evenings of light.

fall 09 highlight #2 moored at thumb cove

September was our first month with a sailboat. Labor Day weekend was warm and sunny, perfect for swabbing decks, rigging sails, and getting to know the boat. We even sailed a little in Resurrection Bay that first weekend.

The weekend after Labor Day, however, was the first taste of why we bought the boat. Harbor life has its conveniences and entertainments, but cruising from bay to bay is what we want to do. That weekend, we got to one bay for one night.

The weather was typical Alaska coastal fall - rainy and cool. At night it was pitch black. When we rowed to shore to walk Bhikkhu around 10:00 pm, we wouldn't have been able to see the boat if we hadn't left a light on in the cabin (the anchor light wasn't working). In the morning we woke to a thick fog and heavy rain. Not ideal conditions but we didn't care. We were moored in Thumb Cove in our very own sailboat.

we all sleep well on the sailboat

fall 09 highlight #1 eklutna

Despite the fall seeming long and seamlessly transitioning from a beautiful summer, I've hardly felt like I had the time to process my photos of it or write about it. So now as the rains wash the last bits of color from the trees, I will attempt to record my personal highlights from a golden September.

In the top three was the Divas 3rd annual weekend at the Serenity Falls cabin beyond the east end of Eklutna Lake. The weather was just as beautiful as last year, only warmer and with less termination dust on the mountains. We also filled the cabin both nights with Divas, which doubled the turnout from past years. Like last year, we hired the concessionaire to take firewood, wine, water, and other heavy consumables out for us the day before. That left us with our personal clothes and overnight gear, group kitchen ware, and most of the food that we would eat.

The fun was being together -- shimmying across log bridges, playing rousing games of Yachtzee and combat-style Sporks, enjoying good food cooked on a woodstove, trying to finish off 4 5-liter boxes of wine, relaxing in the sun by a pond, pedaling under the golden fall leaves and bright blue sky. We were blessed.

more photos from the weekend are on my photo page:

23 sep 09 cold but not frosty

The first thing I heard when I woke up this morning was that it was 32 degrees outside. My first thought: I didn't cover up the greens in the garden. My second thought: I was going to bike to work with a damp head this morning. Luckily we dodged the first frost (32.25 at our house!) and my crops survived another day. I dried my hair a little more than normal and a skull cap under the helmet kept me warm.

This was a long day. I had a Great Land Trust board meeting from 5:30 to 7:30. By the time I chatted and changed into comfortable biking clothes post meeting, I was assured of riding home from dusk to dark. I slipped into the garage just before 9:00.

My legs are tired. I was glad to hear that Paul had walked Bhikkhu. And he had chicken breasts on the grill!

One more day to bike this work week. Paul is going to join me again. We've got to leave a little early because I have to give a presentation in the morning. I know my legs will make it to downtown. Can they make it home one more time?

22 sep 09 world car free day

North fork of the Eklutna River

I don't know how many other cyclists were commemorating World Car Free Day today but I do know that there are many more people cycling to work in Anchorage than when I first started doing it 9 years ago. Maybe it's the new Elmore Road from my part of town. As much as I didn't want that road to slice through those wetlands, it sure has improved the bike commuting with its wide path, bike lanes (if you like to ride in the street), and limited intersections. Plus the view is nice.

Paul and I pedaled downtown together on this fine morning with the clouds lifting and no rain. From Elmore we could see that the snow line has come down quite a bit further in the last two days. During the day, I could watch dark clouds lower over the mountains. The wind picked up downtown and I wondered how wet and breezy a ride it would be home. The rain held off and the wind abated, and the ride home was almost as pleasant as the ride in.

I forgot to lube my bike chain when I got home last night after riding for an hour in the rain, and the chain squeaked all the way home today. I don't know if that made the pedaling harder or not, but it certainly distracted from the tranquility of the Chester Creek trail. Surprisingly, my legs didn't feel as tired as I had expected for my second day of riding 23 miles round trip.

This was also my fourth ride in the past five days. This last weekend was the Divas' annual fall trip to the Serenity Falls cabin east of Eklutna Lake. On Friday we loaded our bikes with provisions for 3 days, 2 nights, in panniers, bob trailers, and/or a pack on our backs. Then we rode out 12.5 miles to the cabin. The trail only has one technical spot and it mostly follows the 9-mile lake shore, so the elevation gain isn't great. There are a few long hills past the lake on the way up the river to the cabin. Without an extra 30 - 40 pounds of gear, it's a fun, fast ride. With the weather and fall colors we had this last weekend, the weight is just another reason to slow down and enjoy the scenery. On Saturday we hiked 8 miles and on Sunday we loaded back up and rode out.

So tonight, my legs are a little tired. I have lubed the touring bike and the mountain bike, and the touring bike is hanging back up on its hook. It's the one I outfitted for commuting, but the mountain bike has two more chain rings that come in handy for hill-climbing. I think I'm going to need them tomorrow for the third day of my motor-free work week.

21 sep 09 motor-free day ... week?

This week is the annual Green Commuter Challenge (GCC) at my work place (an international NGO). As the coordinator for our office, I try to lead by example. Paul and I carpool most days, so I don't feel guilty about my normal practice. GCC, however, has the hope to inspire those who do travel by themselves in their cars to try something different this week. So this week I will try something different - I'm going to attempt to bike to work four days in a row.

Where did I get this crazy idea? Oh, I know this isn't a crazy idea to many people, and if I lived closer to work, both in distance and elevation, I wouldn't think it odd either. I've often thought about doing it. That's one reason why I outfitted my touring bike with fenders and a new bell in April. Why now? My crazy brother Scott. He's going Motor-Free all month. Granted, he's got advantages I don't have (lives close to work in a temperate climate), but I thought, if Scott can do it for a month, can't I do it for a work week? So I set myself a challenge.

Today, the fall equinox, was my first day. I almost changed my mind when I walked B in the cold, dark, and rain at 6:30 am. A quick check of email included one from a biking friend who was going to try also to go car-free. An email from my friend Rose reminded me that she and her husband bike to work almost every day, and that today is Rose's birthday, and that it's also International World Peace Day. Given that the fight for oil is a huge source of strife in this world, I thought I'd do my part for peace and not use any gas for the day.

By the time I got out of the house, the rain had stopped and I was pedaling through tunnels of golden birch leaves. As always, the bike commute in was invigorating. Total pedaling time: 47 minutes, which is just a little slower than typical for the 11.25 mile commute.

On the ride home, I felt like I could do this every day this week ... until I got to the last 3 miles, which are steadily up hill. Total pedaling time: 65 minutes. A few minutes slower than usual, maybe because the ride included an extra half mile over the morning commute to check out a alternate route at the Tudor-Elmore intersection.

Tomorrow is World Car-Free Day. Paul has agreed to commute to and from work via bike with me. So I'm almost assured of meeeting the challenge two days. Wednesday will be the tough day -- I've got an after-work meeting which won't lengthen my trip much but will ensure a partial ride home in the dark and will make me figure out how to safely (and drily) carry a laptop.

If I can make it four days in a row, I can rest and telecommute on the fifth, which still earns GCC points and fits with my normal work week. Then I hope to stretch the work week challenge to a full week motor-free and only bike or walk on the weekend. Wish me luck!