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.

There’s no baby yet, although we are starting a pool amongst the family of when she will arrive and what her name will be. My friends Nancy and Sue are still lobbying, as they have with each granddaughter now, for a little Nancy Sue, which I kind of like, since these days she would be the only Nancy Sue at school and since I do adore Nancy and Sue. I haven’t seen much of them lately though as I have been typing away on the final-ish draft of the new book, catching up after the babysitting weeks, walking Pearl, harvesting the garden, and even ordering a share of fall produce from Columbine Farm (over at the old Henderson place). Call Spencer if you’d like onions, carrots, beets, potatoes and more this fall. 907-303-3276.  There is a ladies night at the golf course tonight at 5:30, and I had planned to finally get out there (it’s been that kind of summer) but I think, or hope, that my son will be home for dinner — one night only– before heading back out to fish, and I haven’t seen him in a month and won’t for another few weeks so after work I’m picking flowers and baking a cake. ( But you should go, if you can, as ladies night is always a lot of fun and you don’t have to be great to play in the scramble or best ball style rounds. )  I’ll miss the psychic speak at the library at six tonight, too, which I am very curious about. I’m reading Searching For Caleb (Anne Tyler) right now, and the protagonist is an unlikely fortune teller who I’m so fond of  that I don’t want the novel to end, and why I think I may visit a real one, just to learn more about a lot of things. It can’t hurt, right? (The poster says you may make an appointment by calling 766-2707.)  If my husband asks why, I will tell him it’s research.  It has nothing to do with baby names and future grandchildren or  what I will be when I grow up. That’s the good thing about writing, everything is potential material.  Even having your fortune told, or whatever she may do. Maybe my next book will be about a psychic named Nancy Sue?  But right now I better get back to work and finish this one first so I can bake that cake and enjoy part of what promises to be another pleasant late August day.