If you have a fur hat, put it on. Then check the bindings on your snowshoes. The first snow of the season is falling on Mt. Ripinsky, from the summit right on down the flanks-- perhaps all the way to the microwave tower, it's hard to tell from the sea-level windy wet perspective of a morning dog walk. I would have snapped a picture, but the camera lens fogged up.
That's how it always works, isn't it? The minute you comment on the fine weather, it changes. We had the first frost last night, which meant I had to scrape the windshield this morning before Morning Muscles, but the stars and moon were still out and there were no bears in sight, although something kept the dogs in town barking all night, if my fellow exercisers are a fair sampling. The nip in the wind today makes me feel much better than I have in months.
We finally put the garden mostly to bed and installed the snow-breaks and stacked the firewood on the porch. I mean it's the end of October and time to be done with it, whether the window boxes are ready or not, right? Sort of. I kept the front box filled for now. We haven't even had a frost. Also, the kale and chard are still edible, so that bed will stay until they are gone or freeze, whichever comes first.
Vincent van Gogh wrote, in a letter to his brother, "I have a terrible need of-- shall I say the word?-- Religion. Then I go out and paint the stars." (And in my humble case, walk the dog.)
On birthdays when they were young I'd tell my children the story of their arrival. Eliza's will always be that she is the first and thus the most miraculous, plus the TV repairman arrived in the Anchorage hospital room right at the height of that first shocking labor. Sarah's story includes the record breaking blizzard and is set in the Haines clinic with Dr. Feldman attending in his boots.
Have you noticed that I seem to show up here every Tuesday lately? Honestly, I promise that I'm getting it together and from now on will send you pithy, brilliant, and informative daily news of life in Haines, or if not all that, at least something interesting about life as I know it on most days, now that mine are settling into a pattern. I have even made a schedule for myself and writing this is in it every day except Saturday. (I am returning to the Sunday's Thought feature, too.) I've been a little loose. Okay, a lot loose. I apologize.
Chip and I did not get a moose, but it wasn't from lack of trying, and as he said, now that the hunt is over the stories can begin. And that's the fun part that could last all winter.
Well, that's moose hunting-- we've been at it four days a week for four weeks, and the moose have safely avoided our freezer. More on that in the next post. While we were hunting, the beautiful old tender (1937, wooden, classic, 70 feet) Neptune sank in the harbor, no one was hurt, and no wildlife have been harmed from the fuel spill. The harbor master is being praised for his quick response and a job well done. Margaret at KHNS has the best summary, so listen here.