Anouvuk
Well, I never managed to catch any birds, but at least I got my anouvuk made semi-properly. Apparently hand tying each not is not the best way to make a net; there is a slick way to do it with a needle.
Wisdom in humor
‘Michael O’Sullivan was my great friend. But I don’t ever remember telling him that. The words that are spoken at a funeral are spoken too late for the man who is dead. What a wonderful thing it would be to visit your own funeral. To sit at the front and hear what was said, maybe say a few things yourself. Michael and I grew old together. But at times, when we laughed, we grew young. If he was here now, if he could hear what I say, I’d congratulate him on being a great man, and thank him for being a friend.’
Jackie O’Shea, in Waking Ned Devine
Some of the most poignant things I have heard, they come in the middle of comedy and humor. Interesting. The other day someone complimen–no, it wasn’t really a ‘compliment,’ it was somehow far more genuine than just a ‘compliment.’ You know what I mean? There are compliments, then there is that other sort of comment, when someone says, pure and genuine, a simple fact about you. That. Someone made one of those remarks to me the other day, and it completely blindsided me. Like, whoa, what just happened? But that got me thinking (and it also made my day). It’s not just me…anybody..when someone makes one of those genuine and true comments, it catches the person off guard entirely.
Because we never say things like that until after someone dies. Just like old Jackie realized in that wonderful movie. Maybe we ought to tell the people we love the important things before they are gone.
Almost look like miniature tulips
Tiny red flowers
Arctic summer color
Bird net
I love to make things. I love it more when I can use them to do something practical, like hunt for food! Unfortunately I have yet to master the art of birding. The little seabirds taste great though, so I’ll keep trying.
The north trails
So there are a few trails on the island. Two head north out of the village, a low one that stays a few hundred feet off the water, and a high one that heads up to the top of the island. The low one, I found the other day, only goes to the north cliffs…where it stops gradually. Well, sort of. The trail starts out incredibly nice, wide and easy, fades to a narrow and sort of tricky little route, and eventually you turn a corner and, wham, cliffs. Big cliffs. Up to that point, it is a gradual fade, though. From the best I could tell, the north cliffs are just shy of the northernmost point of the island.
How does Diomede get electricity?
Well, it works like this. See that picture, that funny looking boat? Well, it’s a barge and tug, actually, loaded with a lot of diesel fuel. They come around once a year. The fuel they deliver powers the village power plant and is sold to individuals for home heating–google ‘toyo stove’ to see how the majority of alaskans heat their homes.
Show me the way in the fog
After a walk–in the beautiful long arctic summer sunset–which got dicey near some cliffs, after a long climb that seemed to never end and get harder and harder, there finally came a corner and around it was the plateau of the top of the island. From there all I needed to do was cross the plateau and find the nice and safe trail back to the island; I had had my fill of brave trailblazing for the day. I breathed a great sigh of relief and started the long walk over boulders as the thick sea fog rolled in. I walked and walked and walked, and finally the sight of a cairn and a well worn footpath brought a smile to my soul.
Riding the five two two
Riding the five two two
by Jei Sheng
Riding the five two two
Along lake city way
Earbuds in eyes closed
Or texting or reading Hemingway
Or lonely for loved ones at home
Past strip malls, strip clubs
And a field of tombstones
Damp and rain-stained to a one
We ride into Seattle
The fans blast lukewarm air
The windows lost to fog
Rain streams in under the doors
Wipers smear the rain
The bell rings out my stop
I button up my thick wool coat
Snug on my hat and grab my things
Still damp but no longer wet
I nod “thanks for the ride”
And step into the rain
I nod “thanks for the ride”
And step into the rain
It’s good to be back
Self portrait
Mile by mile on the parks highway
