All the windows are open and I'm thinking about turning on the fan and putting on a sweater. The screens are in now to keep the mosquitoes out, but I can't paint the porch floor yet because the firewood is still stacked on it and we are still burning the stove most mornings. So why are the windows all open?
One rite of spring that isn't weather dependent is the pumping of the septic tank.
I fibbed a little when I said I was off on a writing retreat. I really went out to Unalaska (Dutch Harbor) to surprise my daughter, who is the elementary school principal there. (I couldn't say so because she might have read it.) The Aleutians are a long way from here. Also, cell service is not so great, and I didn't buy internet time (that's the way out there, apparently.) I listened to an hour or so of the local, state, and national news on the radio in the morning and called it good.
Sewer systems, like septic tanks, are never fully appreciated until they fail. When was the last time you thanked a sewer plant manager? Which may be why the Haines plant operators, Dennis and Scott, seemed so happy to see us and answer our questions. The tour was for all of the borough assembly, but only Tom, myself, and the mayor took advantage of the opportunity, and I know that Tom and I sometimes drive the mayor and Brad ( who is the facilities manager and hosted the tour), crazy with our questions and concerns, so it was an opportunity to bond. I had a good time.
Pyramid Harbor is scheduled to be logged by the University of Alaska
“(Parents are) always bluffing, pretending we know best, when most of the time we're just praying we won't screw up too badly.” ― Jodi Picoult, House Rules
Let's begin with the confession that I don't like rummage sales, and other people's stuff in large quantities on big tables with everyone shuffling through it for a good deal. It gives me the hives. Stay with me, because this ends with a story to make Antique Road Show fans swoon.
“There are random moments - tossing a salad, coming up the driveway to the house, ironing the seams flat on a quilt square, standing at the kitchen window and looking out at the delphiniums, hearing a burst of laughter from one of my children's rooms - when I feel a wavelike rush of joy. This is my true religion: arbitrary moments of of nearly painful happiness for a life I feel privileged to lead.”-- Elizabeth Berg
It is May first. The weather feels more like March 15, with cold southerly gales and stubby brown grass and black branches, but there are signs of spring: hawks, bears, a cow moose moving in the woods, and rafts of ducks and scoters.