I live and write on Lingít Aaní, and gratefully acknowledge the past, present and future caretakers of this beautiful place, the Jilkaat Kwaan and Jilkoot Kwaan.

A Little Port?

Maybe it’s the lack of snow, or my eyes, but is sure seems darker than usual. Still, it’s nice that Margaret is at the radio station at six to keep us company. Pearl and I stayed in bed and listened to the news while Chip leaped up and did his stretches...

Climb Every Mountain

Forgive me for singing the Sound of Music’s “Climb every mountain…” but that’s where I am at after walking up Mt. Riley the other day with Chip. (His first time since the accident.)  We hadn’t planned on it, but I did bring a pack...

Love Lifts us Up Where we Belong

This morning I was up early making two more Christmas coffee cakes and listening to the radio about bad doings in the world and Joe Cocker’s passing, and I wondered why Margaret wasn’t at work yet. Did she slide into a ditch on the way? Sleep in? Yesterday...

Home

There are some people, like George Bailey, whose favorite sounds are train whistles and anchor chains. Not we two Lende grandmothers. Grandma Joanne and me. Home is our favorite place and we are both thankfully, gratefully, there. She in Ocala, me back in...

Ocala Bound

It’s been a worrisome 48 hours here. Grandma Joanne, Chip’s dear mother, and my London traveling companion (that’s her in the airport getting fortified for the last flight we took together), has had a heart attack and is in the hospital in...