Enough already

Trying to fall asleep tonight and clicking through the television channels, between 11 and midnight there were three Alaska reality shows on in the same period. It is getting so nothing is real unless a camera is pointed at it. Have to wonder what happens if some actual Alaska reality goes after one of those camera crews. Like a bear.  Sounds like justice, but it would only result in a reality show about reality show crews recording reality in Alaska.

The very next day: Two more in a competing time slot. Different from the first three. Five within 24 hours. And, none of these was "Deadliest Catch," nor did any involve the Governor Interrupted. Going out to check the bushes for cameras.

Coming for dinner

A couple real fatties showed up at the feeders today. No wonder I have gone through 40 pounds of seed in less than a month.

'Well, beat the drum and hold the phone, the sun came out today'

The opening line of John Fogarty's "Centerfield" was perfect for the sight and the first thing that came to mind. On the solstice, the sun came out and if memory and a small bit of research serves, it was the first time we have seen the sun in Southcentral Alaska this December. It has been the darkest of dark days. Storm after storm blew through from the Gulf of Alaska, bringing rain, heavy wet snow and high winds across this part of Alaska for most of the month. When it was not storming, a heavy overcast hung over the land constantly blocking out the sun.

That made a perfect recipe for seasonal affective disorder, that mid-winter malaise that can plunge the happiest soul into depression. According to research, everyone suffers it to some extent, some worse than others, It is physical, caused by a lack of vitamin D and by a lack of sunlight absorbed through the eyes. It used to bother me until I learned what it was and how to avoid it and since then haven't had much difficulty with it. Just knowing what it is, puts you on your guard a little and you can temper the effects, but also, just getting out in the sunlight for a while every day helps. That was what made this month so difficult, I am sure, for many, there was no direct sunlight, only what was filtered by clouds. I noticed a certain tension at work for one thing, and an occasional downslip in my own well-being for another.

Reaching the solstice is a milestone in that now the days start getting longer as the sun begins its journey north again. (An aside: we had a big discussion about how to say this at work last night. Actually, relative to the earth, the sun doesn't move, the earth does and available light is relative to the position of the earth on its axis relative to the sun, as Earth spins in its orbit. Try to explain that in a one-line caption.)

At any rate, the sun did come out and was creating a beautiful sunset as it did while I drove to work. I had to smile when the song came to mind when I saw it. It is the promise that the days are starting to come back, the building of optimism and the beginning of recovery from any of the effects of SAD.

Thinking now what I will do with the additional two seconds of daylight we will receive today.
It won't be long now until there's "new grass on the field." I am ready to "give this game a ride."

Here's a link to a gallery of photographs a photographer made of the solstice sunset yesterday.

Coping

Without going through it ourselves, it is difficult to fully comprehend the horror of a cancer diagnosis. While many of us never have to face it personally, it would be unusual to find someone who didn’t have a friend or relative who did. I remember going to visit a friend who was in hospice after cancer treatment and as I drove there wondering what I would say, I figured he had suffered enough sad faces and condolences meant more for the dead than the living. Still I did not know what to expect when I saw him, was he going to look frail and deathly or be his normal, robust self? At the door I knocked and when he opened it, I blurted out: “Man you look terrible.”

“I do not,” he blurted back. And, he didn’t. He looked the way I had always known him and I was so relieved that he was or at least looked healthy, and that the ice was broken.

Now a second friend is facing the same demon. There has been one operation and since summer she has lived with the uncertainty of how effective that operation was. Recently there were some complications of mind with subsequent testing and it all leaves her with no solid answer as she faces the holidays. Through her I am seeing one of worst aspects is the waiting and the uncertainty, partly due to the fact that the outcome is in part controlled by others who are slow in communicating from their clinical distance.

Again as a friend I am faced with the quandary of what to say that is reassuring and expresses genuine concern without being overly condescending. As an aside, in editing events calendars I have noticed there are now classes for friends and relatives of people suffering cancer that probably offer answers to at least some of these questions. As I was thinking through what to say, I came up with a sort of parable I think might be an empathetic situation from my own adventures. The hope here is that this doesn't trivialize what my friends are experiencing,

It took some time thinking through this situation and reading her note a couple of times and it seems there are so many possible answers, it is overwhelming and like she said maybe it is best go to bed with a book....

Early on I was afraid of flying. The slightest bump and I was grabbing something. That changed when I went along the Iditarod trail in a small airplane. We were flying over a musher in a little Cessna 172 and the pilot who I am sure was testing me, asked if I would like a picture. When I nodded yes, he turned the airplane into a screaming dive toward earth to get the closest picture possible. I immediately dropped the camera and grabbed this little bar welded to the overhead. It was at that point I realized I was grabbing onto the very thing that was going to kill me and that I had absolutely no control over what was going to happen. Rather than scare me further, that thought relaxed me and I have been fine flying ever since. I let go of that false security and faced the unknown and took the picture. Perhaps it is fatalistic resignation and perhaps it is recognizing at times we have no control over our circumstance and there is no advantage to worrying excessively about something we cannot change.

And by the way, this post is proof I have survived every airplane flight I have ever taken.

Two, two, two posts for the price of one

Busy day at the feeders today. At one point I counted 20 pine grosbeaks and then kind of lost track. And, now redpolls are showing up in greater and greater numbers. The feeder full of thistle seeds has gone untouched for as long as it has been up. That was until today when the redpolls discovered it. There really was a crowd out there. Oh and as promised got out on the lighted side of them today. I figured out a perfect blind and if we ever get a sunny day again, I am looking forward to some good pictures. Love me, love my birds lol.

Eat your heart out, Paris Hilton

If ever there was a perfect example of the Alaska sourdough from the mining genre, this guy was that guy. Short and stocky to the point of being bull-chested, he wandered through the aisles of the big box hardware store, looking at this, looking at that. He wore bunny boats and heavy Carhartt pants, a sweater over a wool shirt under a heavy outer jacket that showed the effects of hard wear. He covered his head with one of those round furry hats, with thick ear flaps fastened over the crown, held up for his being indoors. His dark eyes squinted under bushy eyebrows in the bright florescent light of the warehouse and his beard overflowed his jacket spilling out over the sweater and coat in shades of black and gray and white. He turned and looked at a fellow shopper gauging his worth and evidently deciding this one was not going to be any help. But, as he did, one of those cute little poufy dogs like the celebrities are always carrying, peeked out from underneath the jacket and the beard. Its coloring gave it almost perfect camouflage against the beard. The man gently scratched the dog's head while he turned away to continue on down the row of electrical materials seemingly without another thought. No worries. Dog or no dog this was not the kind of man paparazzi pursued and if they had, well, lord help them.

Some measure of order has been restored

When last we left this convoluted tale, the little car was stuck at the end of the driveway and the Jeep was parked behind it. The temperature was about 20 degrees and snowflakes the size of pillows were falling. That was Friday. Saturday I made the better choice and took the Jeep to work and it was the right choice as through the night we watched the weather steadily deteriorate.
One of the last postings I made at work before I left was that winds in excess of 100 mph were expected in the higher elevations near Anchorage, along with driving rain. Rain! Thinking about driving 40 miles in that was at least intimidating. Jeeps aren't particularly aerodynamic and I wondered what that blunt, square shape would do if hit by a 100-mph-gust. Not sure, but I think I found out. I took a blast not too far along the road that rocked the Jeep. I'm not sure if the wheels came off the ground but I could definitely feel a change. That was the point where a new sound developed as well. One thing all those years on boats did to me was make me sensitive to any sound that is out of context. There can be a lot of noise on a boat with engines and generators and hydraulics running but anybody worth his salt will still hear that little ping that doesn't belong. It might as well be a siren because the response is the same. This was more like a whistle and as usual with a strange sound I immediately thought the whole thing was coming apart. Then I had a lucid moment and figured it out. In addition to a lack of aerodynamic integrity, Jeeps aren't exactly air tight either. That sound was wind whistling through cracks around the doors and windshield. Wow. That was a bit sobering.

So, with the vehicle under constant assault by wind and rain, and potentially ice road under the tires and Saturday night drunks on the road, I proceeded toward home at about 40 mph. I have never been so relieved to leave the new road and take the old road even through it was more of a mess and the wind and rain seemed more powerful. And, now I had to go through an avalanche area as well. Add to that the thought of crossing the river bridge broadside to that wind and it sill felt better than dealing with the drunks on the new highway.

For most of the road, the wind wasn't too bad but I still crept along not sure if the road was icy or not. Then I came around the curve out of the woods onto the river bank and it felt like a truck hit the Jeep. Talk about a hard wind. (There's one of those useless adjectives. How hard was it? Ummm. Well it felt like it stopped the Jeep cold, like it had been punched.) The bridge would be an adventure. But, I took a hard gust just as I rounded the curve that leads up onto it. Looking ahead, despite the rain, the wind had blown the bridge pavement totally dry, I mean it was normal concrete gray instead of black with moisture. As soon as the gust died, I floored it and raced across that bridge just as fast as that car would accelerate. Made it all the way across before any more gusts hit. Home now would be a piece of cake.

I backed into the driveway behind the little car and then walked up to the house, looking around for any cracking trees. The thermometer read 50 degrees. FIFTY in December in Alaska. That also meant the temperature had risen 70 degrees in the space of about four days.
At 3 a.m. the power went out.

Then came Sunday. For one thing look at the post below with the bird taking a bath in a puddle in the yard. Nice drive to work. But still some rain and you couldn't be sure whether the road was just wet or icy. Several vehicles were off the road stuck in the median and down the slope from the shoulder. Still people were passing me at 65 and 70. I always wonder what part of wet, icy road, winter, fairly heavy traffic and wind, don't these people get. Even all the vehicles off the road didn't phase them.

Windy and rainy but the roads seemed thawed. Reading the stories, there were several reports of gusts nearly 100 mph and one of 118. By Monday morning the police reported for Friday Saturday and Sunday: 177 vehicles in distress; 124 accidents, and 22 accidents with injuries.
Hmmm Haven't gotten to the restoring order part yet. Well, today: Both vehicles are where they should be, parked near the house and so much snow was melted out of the driveway, no problem getting in and out. First snowmachine is started and running fine. Four-wheeler that was out because the stalled snowmachine was blocking the garage is back inside safe again. The temperature is back in the 20s where it belongs and the birdbaths are frozen over like they should be. And other things are in progress, including the next immersion.

So, as the saying goes: Cheated death one more time.

One of those polar bear plunges we hear so much about?

Quick post on my way out the door. I was about to lower the blinds when I saw this. Not the greatest quality picture, through the window and blocking the flash, but it will have to do. Who would have thought birds would take baths in winter? This pine grosbeak was shaking and fluffing up in the puddle caused by the rain. I sure hope he dries out before it freezes.

Saw a new bird today, too. Some kind of sparrow I think. Heading for the books.

UPDATE: About that sparrow. Turns out it was a redpoll. They just don't look the same when there is only one of them. Now there is a bunch of them around the feeders (12/6/11)

The Alaska red sled

These days they come in many shapes and sizes and colors. For instance this one is black, but they are all red sleds. That's because when there were made originally they were almost all red, well maybe some were orange. They are those short plastic kids' sleds with a raised side all the way around. They may have been intended for kids, but everyone in the Bush has one at least. Even Iditarod mushers carry them for moving equipment and food around at checkpoints.

They are the third arm, the extra muscle, the smoother trail, the easier going in life where moving around can be tough and moving things around even tougher. You haul chunks of firewood from the pile to the cabin. You bring your groceries up the hill with one when the machine won't make it. You can fit at least two five-gallon containers into the sled when you go to the lake for water. They don't haul huge loads but they haul enough to make life just a little bit easier. I probably own four or five of them but they are all at the East Pole. My trick is to buy two of them, then I fit one inside the other and run eye bolts through both to hold them together and provide places to hook bungee cords. That makes them tougher and they last longer. Today I needed one or at least thought it would come in handy, and I don't have one at this house.

See? Wednesday night I managed to get the little car stuck at the end of the driveway. I just left it there. Yesterday spent about two hours with a shovel or two and couldn't get it out of there no way no how. Went out again this morning and same thing, nothing would let it move. Plus, this morning there were snowflakes the size of pillows which almost led to panic. I mean, I do have to go to work tomorrow. If snow fell like that for very long the car would be there until spring. I kept looking it over to see if maybe I could at least get the Jeep past it somehow. I finally blasted through the dingweeeds and got the Jeep out, then I hooked up to the little car and yanked it out. Then I backed it up, straightened it out and blasted up the driveway as far as it would go -- not far, but far enough so I could park the Jeep behind it and both would be off the road.

Then, after a brief respite I took off in the Jeep to buy groceries. On the way I got to thinking I wished I had a red sled to haul the groceries up the driveway from the Jeep to the house. Now this takes some explanation of Bush mentality. In the Bush when you have a task to do and you don't have the right equipment, you don't think, "well, I'll just go to the store and get it." Mostly you can't go to the store just on a whim. Even if you do it will take at least most of a day. So, you think through what you have that might get the job done. You make do.

As I was thinking through what I might have that I could load with groceries and pull up the driveway all of a sudden a revelation came over me. Wow! I am going to a store that sells red sleds. OMG! I can buy one! Now isn't that something? The problem is, I didn't see the display of simple little red sleds near one of the entries until I was heading out the door with this $35 monstrosity. A bit of overkill but I have decided I am worth it, or at least I am getting old enough to accept a little help when I can find it.

And, just as a side note, I don't want any crap about all those plastic bags. I have several of the reusable ones you buy at the store. But. And, don't you wish you could use this excuse? I LEFT THEM IN MY OTHER CAR.

Oh and look who showed up at the feeder tonight to let me know I forgot to buy bird food.

Redbird goes a'courtin'

There were at least a dozen of these guys around the feeders yesterday morning. I have never seen that many together before. Something else is new also. See how red these two males are. Normally they have a very muted blush of red on their heads and maybe a little on there breasts. These were red all over. Assuming the get very red for mating to attract females something must have gone horribly wrong for them to get all dressed up about five months early. But, there might be a reason.

When I left the house around 10 a.m. yesterday the temperature was 10 above. When I left work about midnight it was 10 in Anchorage too. Nice drive home on clear road and turned off the highway onto the blue highway and though there was some packed snow it was pretty easy going. That was until I came around the curve out of the woods onto the open area next to the river. A blast of wind hit the Jeep so hard I thought for a moment it might go over. With it came driving rain. Om the bridge, the wind had whipped up snow from the river forming drifts across the road every place there was an opening it could find its way through. Bumpy drive across the bridge and more wind. When I got home the weather had softened the snow in the driveway. There's a lot of it. Still waiting for that snowblower repair. The Jeep really worked hard to get up near the house. Once out of it, a blast of warmth hit me from a wind gust. The thermometer read 38-40. The rain had let up. Then in the morning it was back down to about 15. Amazing. And, the red birds showed up en masse.

So could the warm wind have tricked those horny males into thinking it was spring and they put on their fine feathers to go courting. That's my take on it anyway.

AN ADDENDUM: They showed up again the next day and didn't seem to be nearly as red. My friend had this idea about that:

"That's an easy one! The flashy birds you saw yesterday were part of the rich and famous jet-setting crowd. They moved on when the common pine grosbeaks started showing up. Once your feeders were no longer exclusive, it was all over for them. They were so out of there... (Ha, ha, I am so funny.) "

(One of the days I will get on the sunny side of these birds and get a good picture.)