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.

I’m doing my best not to look at my phone first thing. Not to see the alerts about vaccines, Trump and Russia, Harry, the Haines PD warning about a Large Brown Bear by Deishu Drive and the Two Cow Moose with Calves in the Young Road Vicinity or an email about Papa Bob’s next dentist appointment and who has a birthday on Facebook. It’s all too much before coffee.

So I feed the dogs and let them in and out, brew my coffee (one at a time is my speed) while my husband does his sit-ups on the living room floor with the radio in his ear buds so we don’t wake Papa Bob and I go to the chair in the window and read a few poems and then some wise thoughts from Richard Rohr about God, faith, the holy spirit and why it matters. (For this I need my phone, as one of his helpers emails these daily meditations.)

This time of year Chip and I usually ride our bikes for 30 miles or so before breakfast, before 8 am. Usually. But it’s been rainy, cold, windy. The pool is closed for the summer. I don’t want to pedal to nowhere in the house again.

Young Ivy has had it with wearing a coat in June, and yesterday said she was not putting on her hat to walk the dogs before we played Monopoly. “It’s summer vacation not Halloween,” she said. We drank cocoa and that helped.

Papa Bob liked the cocoa too. He’s freezing. But the fire is roasting the rest of us.

He stayed home with Trixie when we went to the library, where we learned that summer will be here Friday according to the guy there that knows all about weather, snow and rain. He meant next Friday, apparently. Not today.

Which is okay, as I’m here with Joy Harjo and Mary Oliver and a second cup of coffee and it’s so comfortable that I don’t want to move.

And now you are here with Joy too:

And Mary:

Now, isn’t that a good thing to do?