May 7, 2004

• Don’t blink…

  A sign (outside a roadside business) that changes from time to time
  with clever seasonal messages or greetings now says, “Don’t blink,
  spring is here..”  That’s how it is at these latitudes (we are at
  62°N here)–winter seems to drag on forever, summer does have some
  duration although never enough for any of us, fall is an all-too-brief
  warning to get winterized, and spring is here and gone in the blink of
  an eye.  I understand the mechanics of it.  Long daylight
  hours mean fast growth of the winter-dormant vegetation.  Only
  perennials that are efficient at storing nutrients can survive our
  winters, so they are good at getting those leaves out there to generate
  more nutrients to store for next year.  Likewise the annual
  plants:  the ones with seeds that germinate quickly and send up
  lush growth in a hurry are the ones that can manage to reproduce and
  reseed themselves in our short growing season.  We’ve probably not
  seen our last frost yet this year, and may have “autumn” frost as early
  as mid-August.  Last year there was frost in mid-July, and I don’t
  know whether to call that a late spring or early fall frost–doesn’t
  matter.

  My first few summers in Alaska astounded me with the quick lush
  greening of the landscape.  I swear it proceeds rapidly through
  the light and yellowish spring green into the full summer greenery I’m
  used to in the Western Lower 48–and then on beyond that into a deep
  lush shade of green I’ve not seen anywhere else.  After my first
  few summers here I started calling it obscene green.  It comes so
  fast and grows so thick in these woods I don’t expect anyone to believe
  it who hasn’t watched it happening.  From bare twigs and open
  woods we go to full-leaved branches and dense vegetation in mere
  days.  The last few days, I could detect more green each afternoon
  than had been there in the morning.  On my drive down the valley
  yesterday, every mile took me into greener woods.  At Kashwitna
  Lake there is still a raft of rotten ice along the southern shore and
  in the shade on the north side of the island. The trees were noticeably
  greener there on the drive home today than they had been on the way
  down the valley yesterday.

  I had an impromptu layover in Wasilla last night.  On my way in
  yesterday, at speeds around 40 MPH and over, my steering wheel was
  shaking so badly that by the time I got to town my hands were numb
  (Reynaud’s Syndrome) and my arms sore and tired (CFS). This being my
  first trip out on the highway after the tire changeover, I understood
  the problem.  I knew I didn’t want to drive all the way home like
  that, and if I did I’d just have to drive it back to town to get it
  fixed, so I dropped it off at G-Force Tire across from Felony Flats and
  walked over to Greyfox’s stand.  The mechanic at G-Force said they
  weren’t booked up, had just one car ahead of me, so I figured we’d be
  okay with about 2 1/2 hours before I was due at the rehab ranch to pick
  up my vanload of residents for the NA meeting.

  Greyfox was in process of closing down the stand when I got there
  wheezing from my walk.  I caught my breath and told him the car
  was in the shop.  He said that would explain why he didn’t hear me
  drive up or see the car.  He finished up, put his stuff away,
  bustled around and fretted in the way he always does–undue anxiety
  about time-pressure is one of the symptoms of NPD–and then we walked
  over to G-Force.  The car hadn’t been taken into the service bay,
  so I picked up my keys and made an appointment to be their first
  customer this morning.  We had a hurried meal at our favorite
  Mexican restaurant, La Fiesta Dos, and I wasn’t overly late getting to
  the ranch.  Keith, my favorite ranch hand, was waiting on the
  front porch, watching for me.

  This week was our monthy “group consicence” business meeting after the
  regular meeting and as I kept minutes and we did the mundane stuff it
  takes to keep our group going a restive group of ranch rehab residents
  waited around outside in the evening sunshine hoping they’d get back to
  the ranch in time to see the movie.  It was Once Upon a Time in Mexico,
  so I too hope they got to see it–too good a movie to miss.  Don’t
  tell anyone, but I broke the speed limit on the way back, more to
  impress the restive ones with my sympathy for their cause than from any
  belief that those few extra seconds would help.  Breaking the 50
  MPH limit wasn’t easy.  We had a full load again, fourteen of us
  in that doggy old van.  On the way to the meeting, I’d had to slow
  behind someone turning left on an upgrade, and thought I was going to
  have to order half my passengers out to push to get my momentum back.

  Greyfox’s cabin was a full house last night.  He was in his bag on
  the floor cushions, chivalrously letting me have the narrow
  box-bunk.  Together in that bed neither of us sleeps on account of
  that box:  it’s a thing cobbled together by a carpenter from 2X6s
  with an edge all around that sticks up beside the mattress. 
  Settling myself on it to watch a video last night, I plopped my taibone
  down painfully onto the edge at the head of the bed.  Greyfox said
  he could feel the sensation just from my vocalization.  I’m really
  glad I’d given him a box of my Mac’s earplugs.  It meant that I
  had some there to use last night.  The noisy neighbors left just
  as we were settling down for the night, so it wasn’t bad.

  This morning I did my grocery shopping and hit a coupleof yard sales
  after the guys at G-Force were finished with the car.  It cost me
  $20.00 there to correct the bad balancing job I’d paid $40.00 for at
  Lobo Tire.  The G-Force mechanic told me one of the tires was
  “counterbalancing itself”, whatever that means.  He also refreshed
  my memory that one of my rims is an odd one, aluminum, and had been
  placed on the front by El Lobo, causing the car to pull to the
  right.  He moved it to the rear for me.  Sometimes I wonder
  what it would be like to have a fully functioning, all-there, new or
  nearly-new car, but don’t suppose I’ll find out in this lifetime. 
  No biggie.

  I got home around 1 PM, woke Doug and told him if he still wanted to go
  eat at the free barbecue celebrating the grand opening of the new
  offices at our credit union in Willow, he had to get moving.  I
  watched him eat hot dogs, cake and cookies as I consumed a couple of
  naked ground beef patties and half a cup of black coffee.  Sounds
  like I’m dieting, eh?  In a sense I am, but not to lose
  weight.  If they had had more of “my” foods, I’d have eaten
  more.  All I’m doing is avoiding known toxins, allergens and
  addictive foods.  My weight has started down again all on its own
  after some winter fluctuations around a plateau of 150 lbs.  The
  cake did look good.  The kid had a square of devil’s food with
  thick butter-cream filling in the middle and the same icing on top, and
  a similar square of white cake with a pink berry filling and creamy
  cream cheese (he said) frosting on top, and two chocolate chip
  cookies.  I said it looked good.  He said, as always, “You
  can’t eat this.”  As usual, I said, “I know.”  He said it was
  “just okay,” but whether that was because the cake was nothing to shout
  about, or was meant as consolation for poor old mom, who knows?  I
  was okay with it, really, no drooling or rabid cravings, just the
  thought that the stuff looked tasty but was not for me.  I simply
  put those poisonous foods in the same mental category as
  methamphetamine and opiates, and I’m okay with the abstinence.

  

  • 8:46 pm
  • 1 Comment