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.

 You can tell it is summer in Haines when you are walking out of the post office and a friend is pulling in with their car, and you lean up against their window to chat about the weather, (it is freezing) and a mutual friend’s health, and the person in  the parking space you are blocking honks his horn so you’ll hurry up and get out of his way. Honks! (It was a big truck with, a friend noted later, “foreign plates.”- Colorado, I think.) In February you can chat like that on Main Street until your coffee gets cold. (And honestly, at least when you have to wait a few minutes at the post office you can read your mail.)
 
In other news, I put the bird netting over the strawberries last night and it foiled the crows this morning. They are having a meeting about it now, on the picnic table. They look kind of cross and are pacing back and forth.  I also pulled up the bolted spinach and gave it to the chickens and planted another row of lettuce. There are green tomatoes on the vines in the greenhouse, and yesterday I signed a pile of books at the bookstore, since I leave for Anchorage Saturday and the two week summer residency part of my master’s degree program. (I’m already homesick.) While I was signing, two woman from the cruise ship came in the store, all dressed up, in black raincoats with umbrellas. (It was a little misty, is all.) And one looked at me and said, “do you live here?” I said yes, and I wrote the book I was signing. One woman, the one with the big hat and the sunglasses,  said, “Good luck with that. Can tell you tell us where Al’s Fish Shack is?” Of course, I did. Then I went home and applied for a job with Harry and Summer at Al’s.  (Just kidding.)