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.

“Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains.”– Satchel Paige

“Fulfill now, O Lord, the desires and petitions of thy servants as may be best for us…” Book of Common Prayer

Weds. Dec. 13 Chilkat River Beach. 9:45 am. Snow and rain, 33 degrees. Gusty south winds. There is a lot of water running and pooling up, but everything is fine.

Beth and I walked and laughed. Once again, the wind and pelting rain/snow meant we could only converse in fits and starts. Shouting fragments as we marched, heads down, or stopping and turning toward each other if anything needed to be elaborated on.

My dog Jeff and her dog Lucy pushed their entire heads into both ends of a driftwood pile searching for voles. I took off my gloves and opened the camera to take a picture for you, but then Lucy caught one and we shrieked and yelled “No!” and “Drop it” and “Did she eat it?” and “Oh my God Jeff has one too. I see a tail” and  “I think I might throw up.”

It’s a good thing I was not able to share any of that.

Last night it just poured and poured and the wind shook the house. It took a long time to fall asleep, even with counting my blessings like sheep. I don’t have any sheep, but I do have five children and twelve grandchildren to be grateful for and to say a few words of blessings for. I alternate the order (oldest to youngest and then youngest to oldest) because I hate to fall asleep before I have covered everyone. That seems like very bad luck.

I toss extra salt over my left shoulder too, make a wish when I blow out the candles and never tell what it is, don’t walk under ladders, sidewalk cracks, or count chickens before they hatch– and I cook black-eyed peas for New Year’s. I never travel without a rosary, or three. I look for four-leaf clovers. I have more faith in what I can’t see than what I can. The view is better. (At least today.)

This morning I was reading Roger Rosenblatt and underlined this sentence, thinking I’d use it for today’s post: “… you need to observe the world, closely and steadily, with a mind open to change. And for that to happen, you need to live in the world…”

And what happens?

The dogs kill a vole and I can’t post anything, that’s what.

There is a glitch on the blog. (We have had a couple lately. I apologize. It has to do with traffic, as in readers, so that’s a good problem to have, anyway.)

There is a wonderful man that helps me navigate this website and we are working on it. Actually, that’s not true. “We” are not fixing it. James is. He pretty much does everything on my site except write and take pictures. As far I can tell, he has supernatural powers to connect us.

Maybe you can see this now, but maybe not.

In the meantime, let’s hope this is one of those spooky, timely, cosmic reminders to unplug, to write a card, with a pen, on real paper. Don’t forget the stamp. I hope it is one that you can taste.