Sunday, May 4, 2008

many blessings

April 25 2008
I am peeling logs with a hand tool. sitting on the log in the blustering wind, with my back to the sun. These are 8 foot logs, for possibly a sauna. They are from the most abundant dead tree here on the property, the quaking aspen. I marvel about the incredible beauty of the wood, I wish I could make planks out of them too. The wood is very light colored with red, green, brown, orange, you name it, streaks in it. It seems like a well kept secret among trees, Who has a quaking aspen floor in his house? I know it is a soft wood, but I would love to experiment with it. I feel as keeper of wild places I will not use mechanical tools, so this puts me into a predicament. Any suggestions welcome. In the mean time I just keep peeling and marveling. Gratefully so.
Earlier on I sat on my husband's lawn chair. What an uniquely wild place. The sun shining ,the wind already gusting. In front of his shop/garage he has this personal corner with all sort of wild stuff (scrap metal,recycling,wood, a big jar of gravel(placer gold?) etc.) which only he understands, he does understand because it is organized. The spot is exactly south facing and in kind of a bay, sheltered from the wind. When you know the Yukon you know this is a sought after location for sitting outside in the spring in the middle of the day. Sought after? let me know who will sit outside in the sun in the middle of a week day in the Yukon or anywhere?
But Before all that I had my walk for wild places. And this is what it brought; My house is on the edge of this rural subdivision with 20 acre lots. So really when I step outside, I step of the main track. First I do follow the cut line and then my own made trail and then a little bush road which is used by neighbours and such and then a smaller bush road, which is probably there from the making of the Alaska hwy. Finally. We're half an hour now, I come to the crossing of a little creek. And I mean finally, as in I finally let go of my regular thoughts . The creek shocks me into the state I want to be in, one of awe, one of glory, one of wilderness where everything is a surprise. The creek is flowing! With the warm temperatures this week the ice finally broke. When first open it is deep and wide. I have to go into the bush beside the road to cross it without getting wet.These Alaska hwy bush roads all come to a dead end, there I continued a trail which is now years old, farther yet I go onto an very much older trail, made by the moose, it's only used by one human, that I know of, so it is very much a moose trail. And eventually I reach the birch trees! Still no sap, the ground here is still frozen. In my neck of the woods, the Birch only grows on north facing slopes. Where hence it is colder. As I have no sap to carry home, I decide to enjoy a little meadow at the bottom of the slope here. It's only a hundred yards from the birch trees. Ah what a delight, a little opening in the forest. I had expected some water in the middle, but it is just marshy grass. Though there is a patch of Coltsfoot. Now it is just black and grey dead leaves, but it delights me in anticipation of what's to come. When I get up I am called by an 'island' of quaking aspen.(The 'sea' being willow bushes) I decide to follow this small valley, I wonder if there is name for this kind of landmark. It will come out onto another moose trail, 'The Moose Trail', to be precise. It will be another story for another day, as will be the story of the mountain, 'The Mountain', to be precise. The Moose Trail lays in an old creek bed right east from The Mountain. Anyway back to where I was, I am in new territory now, I,ve wandered around here just once or twice before. For me being in a new place in Nature opens up my senses even more, every tree, every log on the ground,etc looks more 'fresh', more interesting , more exciting. 3 Ravens playing high up in the sky agree. But for me (excuse me if I am sounding pathetic) the most exciting event on this trip happens on a familiar ridge; crocuses blooming! They're small, barely open and very close to the ground, They're so tough, they're so purple, so soft and their bright yellow hearts. In a world so devote of colors yet.

April 26 2008
Crocuses on Crocus hill! Writing about them I got the urge, jumped on the bike, rode to the red roof cabin and climbed to the top of the grassy hill which over looks the neighborhood and the Mendenhall river meadows (a bonus; so I can watch for swans. I can't see any, but that doesn't say they are not there) I do see a golden eagle above me.

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