October sunshine and fresh snow is especially welcome following the storm last weekend. Five inches of rain in 48 hours and gales raking the beach, the trees, the house. On the radar it looked like a hurricane, and in the middle of Saturday the eye passed over, and sun poked through, and we stepped out for a minute.
It was a little spooky what with the weather service warning of potential mud slides, and carrying us all right back to last December, but this time there was no disaster (or at least no huge ones.) A neighbor on Mud Bay Road had four trees come down and one landed in her orchard and walloped her young trees, slowing down their fruit production “at least two years” she said. But we were at the pool, swimming, in person, as the Covid storm rages in Alaska, so there’s that to be thankful for. We are okay. And our old friend who has been in the Juneau hospital with severe Covid is home as well. I saw balloons tied to his porch, so that’s good news. I think his was the only serious case here so far. The reporting is sketchy. We may have 7 active cases, but I don’t really know. Masks are worn by less than half of the folks I see out and about. When I voted yesterday I wore one, but half of the election workers didn’t, and half of the voters in the ANB hall didn’t. “It is what it is,” Papa Bob said when I got back to the truck where he was napping. ( I wear mine to keep him and my grandchildren healthy.)
Four strong candidates ran for two seats on the borough assembly, two had conservative backing, and two had liberal support –and those two won. The turn out was good. We elected former manager Debra Schnabel (my friend that members of this assembly fired- yes she is gutsy and cares about the community) and Tyler Huling. Tyler is young, smart, new to town, and somehow got even more votes than Debra. It’s a change in the political weather, for sure. The next generation is engaged in local politics. Assembly meetings might be fun again.
There’s one more day to hunt moose, and as of yesterday 12 have been turned in, which is about half of last year’s harvest. It is weird to use that word for a live animal, I know. If it makes you feel better, Papa Bob is not in favor of hunting anything. He went to my sister’s so Chip and I could go out together, but then last night Don called, and said he needed help packing out a moose. He’d gutted it but was going back in the morning to move it. Bring a good pruning saw if you have one, he said, and…
“Chest waders? Not hip boots?” Chip says. “A canoe?” “Stuart might be able to borrow Hugh’s Argo?”
Stuart is twenty years younger than Don and Chip. And strong.
The dead moose is apparently on a small hummock in a big swamp about thirty miles from here. The plan was for the three of them to head out there at dawn, cut it up and load the meat in the boat, and pull it in the canoe to shore ( the chest waders are for this.. it will take a few trips…)–then clear an ATV trail to haul it out on.
“Want to come?”
“No thank you.”
“What possibly could go wrong?” Chip says, and breaks into that big smile of his.
These guys love this stuff.
I’ll let you know how it turns out. It’s a beautiful day at least. I went for a frosty early walk with good friends and relatively well behaved dogs. The snow is getting thicker up high, and the seals are still in the river chasing salmon.
The bears have been strolling under the stars.
And will you look at where I am now? I have an entire bonus day at home, alone. It’s just me and the dogs so the radio is turned up and I’ve taken over the table. I recently had an essay accepted by a fancy literary magazine and they are formatting it and had some questions, which I am happy to answer– How fun is this? I’m humming “nice work if you can get it…” and I feel happy — rich in so many things. (There may be even be moose backstrap for dinner.) Blame it on all this golden light. Or love. Or that one perfect October day that may not come again until next year.
