Saturday, December 31, 2011

Friday, December 30, 2011

Monday, December 26, 2011

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Driving to Town

Had to run into town for my weekly Animal Shelter visit.



Brought back memories of driving home from Anchorage through Turnagain Pass.





But it was just Baycrest Drive.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Lena - Conehead




Hematoma. Stitches are supposed to stay in three to four weeks. So is the collar.

All she wants for Christmas is to scratch her ear...

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Friday, November 25, 2011

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

On the Sterling Highway



Heading for Soldotna....

Tuesday, November 08, 2011

Wind-Blown



Strong winds whip snow off of Sadie Peak.

Sunday, November 06, 2011

Saturday, November 05, 2011

Wednesday, November 02, 2011

Cook Inlet Views

Taken from the overlook at the top of Baycrest Hill.


Dawn paints the cumulus clouds out over the Gulf of Alaska.



Several hours later, Augustine volcano gleams with fresh snow as more snow threatens.

Monday, October 31, 2011

Metempsychosis



I doubt all
save the survival
of some unquenchable fire within me;
I seek no immortality,
for it comes without search.
I live with the joy of my senses,
knowing that this part will surely perish,
leaving only that which came before.
To live here and now without that certainty,
without acceptance of Death as the unveiling
of the One,
is to forget,
forever,
the secret name that is whispered at birth
beyond the hidden gates.

--Gywdion Pendderwen

Sunday, October 30, 2011



October twilight and a thin new moon from our back deck, the last day of autumn.

Saturday, October 29, 2011

The Veil Between Worlds...



The veil between worlds grows thin at this time of year.

Samhain lore...

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Bounty of the Storm



We scored half a fish and two bottles of wine and barely had to leave the yard--just went next-door to help the neighbor clean up wind damage.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Saturday, October 22, 2011

October 22, 1983

For our world, the circle turns again
Throughout the year we've seen the seasons change
It's meant a lot to me to start anew
Oh the winter's cold but I'm so warm with you

Out there there's not a sound to be heard
And the seasons seem to sleep upon their words
As the waters freeze up with the summer's end
Oh it's funny how young lovers start as friends

--Elton John

Friday, October 21, 2011

Checking the Wood Stove



I know winter is coming when the night is a series of soft-focused, almost-awake forays into the shop to check Maxie's wood stove.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Friday, October 14, 2011

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

The Moon of October



When I went out to feed Max this evening, I was greeted with the newly-risen moon.

When I came back with the camera, I got to sit in the moonlight with Max for a few minutes.

Monday, October 10, 2011

A Blaze of Glory

As if realizing their time is short, the dahlia and geranium are putting forth their best...



Sunday, October 09, 2011

Salvador



The woman who brought him to the shelter had seen him as a stray for three years.

His two upper canine teeth were broken off, so the shelter had those removed when they got him neutered. His tattered ears show signs of having been frost-bitten at some point.

He loves to sleep between us, resting his paws against us, knowing he is safe and warm.

The White Birds





I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!
We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awakened in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.

A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose;
Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:
For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam: I and you!

I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,
Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;
Soon far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be,
Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!

-- W.B. Yeats.

Tuesday, October 04, 2011

October Morning



Looking out the upstairs window as the rising sun catches the smoke from the wood stove drifting past.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

At Ninilchik

I suppose, some eight or ten thousand years ago, a glacier pushed up this moraine at the edge of Cook Inlet. Since then, the Ninilchik River has carved a shallow notch down to the sea.



The cottonwoods have probably been growing here some several centuries, in the gravelly soil the ice age left behind.


Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Through the Windshield



Heading down the hill into town this morning.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Sunrise Cumulus



The clouds out over the Inlet are tinted by the rising sun.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Ivy



"The light of 1,000 stars does not equal the light of the moon."

Sunday, September 25, 2011

The Eight of Swords



The Eight of Swords is a card that has always spoken to me. This one is from the Tarot of the Cat People.







Thursday, September 22, 2011

Watchtower



A Victorian, catching sight of one of the ever-present communication towers that dot Alaskan landscapes, might think of H.G. Wells and Martians.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Tuesday, September 13, 2011