All we have been doing for four days is eating. JJ and Stoli made it in Thursday. They had tried to fly down from Anchorage to Juneau Tuesday night, to catch Wednesday's ferry, but high winds and rain kept the airport closed and even the jet couldn't land. Eliza and her boyfriend also had to fly up from Juneau, since there was no ferry this weekend. They waited much of Saturday morning for the fog to lift, and finally did get in about 1:30. Eliza looked a little pale and said something about going around in circles in the clouds and then dropping suddenly down a clear hole toward the water and light, and announced she wasn't going to do that again. Actually, we haven't just been eating, we played a lot of cards and napped on the couch and half-watched a few ball games, and I think part of a movie or two and half-listened to Prairie Home Companion on the radio. In between we trotted around in the rain, a lot. We ate and then moved and then rested. There were poached eggs and a hike up Mt. Riley with Liam. ( Chicken-eggs, the kids call them, since they come from my hens. There's no use pointing out that all eggs are chicken eggs.) A walk on the beach and moose steaks. Coffee and leftover apple cake and another early run up Riley, this time, Chip came, and we found the first snow of the season half way up, and he pointed out deer tracks by the boardwalk at the top. When we got home there was granola and toast. Stoli went swimming at the pool. Then we spent all day making goat enchiladas, and baking a birthday cake for JJ, and some of us took another walk before we put the baseball game on TV, and friends came over. Baby Caroline kept clapping and doing that screech thing she does when she wants attention. I worried that the floor would be too dirty to crawl on, what with the dogs being all wet-- and the extra dogs-- Sarah and Brian's bloodhound, Stuart and Lexie's Lab, Becky's little red dog Snoopy. (He's not hers but belongs to a miner who works out of town.) Chip made the dogs stay on the porch, or tried too. It turns out that the baby's knees never touched the ground anyway, she was passed from lap to lap all night long. Here's the thing- when I look at the baby, I see an old photo of my mother, with me, or maybe it is one of my sisters on her lap, and then I see my babies on my lap, and I think: This is why I am here, and why I have spent a lifetime making a home.