Snowed in

Last night the wind howled around our little cabin and sent showers of icy snow to cover road. Oliver got up in the middle of the night to save the big sled we use to transport groceries when the road is out. It had blown way down the lane, but he was able to tie it down and come back to bed.

We woke up to an overload of white, coating the walls of the house and covering the alder. The wind was still blowing, but not as fiercely and some ravens were making use of the updrafts to play. One had a stick, and Oliver and I joined the two cats at the window to watch in fascination as it repeatedly dropped and retrieved it midair. The other birds joined in, swooping and diving, moving the stick from claw to beak to claw. They were so obviously playing for the fun of it. I find ravens so interesting; they can mimic human speech and have such a huge capacity for learning.  Being the dork that I am, I spent a good part of the morning looking up info on ravens and other corvids online. Later we will brave the elements and try to bust out and make our way to town. I haven’t left the cabin for going on four days now! Time to remedy that.

To the left you can see the wall made last time (yesterday!) that Oliver cleared the snow. To the right, the obliterated road.

Beginning of the beginning

This blog is new. This blog is just beginning. I would like it to be fully formed and complete, to pop online with its message clear and purposeful, crisp mission statement in hand. 

But, alas, it is not. It is a muddled, mostly broken changeling of a blog. Broken isn’t the right word, because something must be whole first before it can be broken. So it is… in the process of being born. And being born is a very difficult and tumultuous endeavor. And let’s not even get started on the difficulties of growing, which is a process we all must go about after being born. Life is so difficult, even before it has fully begun. It is a wonder we get started at all. 

So let’s just sit back and watch a little movie. And please do try to stick with me here, in the beginning. Because of course (as the NeverEnding Story tells us) “In the beginning, it is always dark.”

Milk Toast

Milk toast is something I grew up with, a comfort food I thought most people would have had at some point or another. It wasn't until I went away for college that I realized no one else had any earthly idea what I was talking about when I mentioned milk toast. Really, how can you go wrong with toasted buttered homemade bread, hot milk, salt and pepper?

I have been craving some milk toast for awhile now, but was lacking the homemade bread to make it right. With a fresh loaf out of the oven this morning, my moment of bliss had arrived. I emailed my mom for some advice on how to make it perfect, as a google search for milk toast will get you nowhere fast. Her thoughts,

"For milk toast, I use milk and some canned milk and a little cream if I have it.  Really need real butter on the toast and salt and pepper.  That sounds so good.  I haven't had milk toast in years."

Milk Toast

Simply toast a thick slice or two of homemade bread. It also needs a nice slather of butter. While toasting and buttering, simmer your milk on the stove. I chose a good dose of canned milk and some cream that was handy. I also gave the milk/cream mix a generous amount of salt and pepper. Lay your toast on a plate, and pour the hot milk mixture over. Settle into the couch with some Downton Abbey on the TV, a cat on your lap, and enjoy!

 Crunchy yeasty crust, yielding to a hot melty milky middle. Perfection.

On apple pie and charades

Some nights, you just need to make pie. It is preferable that your boyfriend make the pie (as you are lacking patience tonight) and that afterwards the two of you play charades together. For much longer than you think possible because (surprise surprise!) you find each other completely hilarious and witty beyond belief.

If you have access to the internet, try using a charade generator. We really liked the popular movies topic. Even though it might seem like you need more than two people to have fun with this game, you really don't. And think of how awesome you will appear at parties now that you have mastered the art of couples charades!

January

It is January and I do not know how exactly we came to be here. There was Colorado, most certainly. There was a reunion between my Alaskan man and I which, of course, involved a good deal of feasting. There (too suddenly) were friends and goodbyes and tears at the thrift store curb as I gave away most of my belongings and crammed the rest into my car. Then there was an airplane, a wonderful departure from my old life in which O and I saw Costa Rica, a small bit of Panama, and a long upward swath of Nicaragua.  And so quickly, there we were in Colorado again, putting gas in the groaning car and driving (forever) to Montana. There was family and love and cats and sneaky nibbles of crisp turkey skin. There were more goodbyes and one more plane. Ok, two more planes. One was little. 

And now I am here in Alaska. Here in Alaska there is snow and O’s family and quiet. There will be hibernating. Broken up by bouts of danger sledding and snow rolling and copious drinking.  On a hill above Homer.  And what I am trying to say, what I am trying to get out, is this question. To myself. To you.  Should I come back, to this place? Should I try to write and show you bits of my day? What is really important?  The writing? The photographs? Does anyone really care? Do I care?

It is January. I should probably sort this stuff out.

“You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy. So let them go, let go of them. I tie no weights to my ankles.”

― C. JoyBell C.

 

 

Right Now...

Right now, I am really missing this guy. The man is tying grass around a bouquet of flowers (bogbeans and alaskan cotton to be exact) we picked on our last "lake date". Whenever I visit him in Alaska, there are several "dates" I insist upon, and although they all have different charms (who can say no to a bear date, after all?) lake date is probably my most cherished.

It is a moment for just the two of us to sneak away, paddle the canoe, take some pictures, and relax outside.  Invariably, Oli finds a moment to kick back for a little power nap!

I am going back to visit again in just a few short weeks, and I will be anxiously awaiting the moment when we can slip away to the lake together.

Here's to wildflowers, newly hatched dragonflies, power naps, and Alaskan lakes. Here's to summer, in all its lovely forms.