and all those lonely nights down by the river you brought me bread and water

sunset from the top of the hill, last week sometime:
(i’m writing at home, to be transferred to the internets later today.)
it’s almost noon, i just started my 2nd pot of coffee (4-cup mr. coffee machine mona dug out of her storage trailer for me a couple weeks ago), jeff king is playing live ani on his radio station, which seems incongruous given his propensity to stop transmitting NPR every time a democrat speaks and switch immediately to conservative country, but i suppose you can’t question the logic of such things. another cloudless blue sky and the first rays of sun are crawling in my southern window.
nan stopped by for a beer yesterday and asked if this place feels like home to me. she says after 28 years here, a kid, sled dogs, and house payments, she still finds herself thinking of it as a phase in her life that will eventually come to an end, when she finally “moves back home.” she doesn’t know where that would be. she sat in the rocking chair, didn’t take off her sunglasses or binoculars, and said it would be fun if we both ended up in new mexico.
spring arrived this week in full force. snow melted, pooled in driveways and outhouses, and started seeping into the ground. the nenana is still jammed up somewhere between here and the canyon. on wednesday craig and i walked downriver on the ice, talking about how we’re trying to be more responsible and cautious on solo hikes as we fell through slushy ice to our knees, made obvious metaphorical jokes about not learning from mistakes. we made dinner, then walked down the highway to look at a caribou carcass on the side of the road. it occurred to me that i’m incredibly lucky to have a life in which this passes for entertainment. the next day went back to the river with cassalyn, who stopped by with wine on her return from anchorage and spent the night on my “guest bed,” and it was a different world entirely.
craig grabbing a handful of ice spears from shelf ice. the next day, cassalyn throwing them like confetti:
sun makes me happy.-----------------------------------
also: talked about place names at the subsistence resource commission meeting in healy on thursday, went with sam the archaeologist yesterday to look at sites near the teklanika campground, where i recognized my southwestern bias as to what constitutes an archeological site, and have convinced myself that my car is about to blow up on a semi-daily basis. i always have this nagging feeling that i’m looking at the wrong things. like the flies on my windowsill who, after having disproportionately loud sex for the last 2 weeks have suddenly receded into a lethargic silence, giving the impression that they’re waiting for something to happen that will take me entirely by surprise.
(south on the tek, from the tek west arch. site. sam was taking pictures of tephra and moraines...i ate a sandwich and stared at the river, occasionally asking a stupid question.)