Last year at this time I was up in Kenai, going to OASIS school. I spent my evenings watching television in a motel room, talking with Denny on the phone, then trying to doze off while the television murmured in the curtained darkness. All the while--every day, every night--my heart longed to be home.
Tonight, the feeling of imminent Spring is in the air. The mournful calls of migrating cranes float down from the heights and the setting sun reflects off the windows of the homes up on Diamond Ridge, their feet still firmly planted in the lingering snow. Our yard is mostly bare now, the driveway coated with an inch of mud, the dead grass tossed in skeins along the verge, a few hardened drifts of icy snow lingering in the shady places.
Demi left us yesterday afternoon. It was foreseen and inevitable but sad, nonetheless. For the first time in nearly seventeen years, she wasn't here this morning. The house--so full of cats--still held a somber emptiness.
She was a good cat. I am glad that she found her way here, so many years ago. It was our gain.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Well, I did it this week. I finally mailed off my Form 52--the form that informs the governement that I will be retiring as of June 9, 2008. It is the first actual piece of paper I have submitted toward retirment and of all the paperwork associated with retiring, it is the most important.
So, I walked out of the Post Office with a sense of lightness.
I am done. Only eight more days of actual work left for me--spread out over the next month or so as I am taking several weeks off next month. Eight more days and a career that began more or less by accident back in July of 1975 will have reached its conclusion.
I feel real good about that
I am excited about getting my life back. I was unemployed for eight years after we moved to Homer and enjoyed having time to spend with the cats, putter around the house, grow flowers and herbs, watch the day unfold around me.
It is going to be like having one long summer vacation. (If summer ever comes...)
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
Denny complained that it was *zero* when he went outside to get wood this morning. By the time I had roused myself from bed, the temperature had begun to creep up to a more reasonable level.
Still, typical Spring weather, especially under clear skies, brings freezing at night and thawing during the day.
It makes it hard to decide what to wear to work, as it is warm when I leave for work and cooling as I come back home.
I came home a few hours early this evening. An eagle flew over the parking lot as I was unlocking my car, so I snapped this picture.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Saturday, April 05, 2008
A cold front moved through last night, dropping about an inch of snow. The skies cleared behind it, in the face of strong southwesterly winds, and the temperatures remain below freezing, putting the brakes on what was a fairly steady thaw.
It is clear and windy here and snowy and dark in Anchorage, so there hasn't been much traffic today. I have been collecting photos off the web--there are some wonderful ones at the Alaska Volcano Observatory site--and then looking for pictures of my World War I aces. As usual, I got side-tracked into viewing some related webpages and now it is almost time to go home.
Our days have grown longer even as winter gives us one last (I hope) grasp before letting go. It is beginning to sink in that this will be my last spring sitting at work and watching the sun sink into the western mountains, the last spring of watching the creep of yellow-green leaves up the bluff behind town. I am retiring in June and will watch the world turn from the vantage point of the back deck. But I am glad to have had the years (thirteen--who'd have thunk it!?) here at Homer FSS.
I will be even gladder to be able to stay home with Denny and the kitties and do whatever I want without the schedule from work hanging over me. The thought--I have to go back to work tomorrow--nipping at my mental heels.
Time is the greatest gift. And at Summer Solstice, my time will once again be my own.