A little bit of everything

I've been away from this space for what feels like a long time. That's because I've been enjoying every minute of sunshine and warmth we've had since we shook off the last of winter's snow. And being this close to the summer solstice in the North, that's a lot of minutes of sunshine!

Since the river broke on May 15th, we've had some very high waters. Our friends in the Rock Creek community have all had to evacuate their homes as the waters rose into their yards and swirled around their houses. Along the roadsides, many of the ditches ran high with water; in some places, it came level with the highway. Even in town, people talked of the possibility of flood (though it was just talk). The ferry landing was underwater, the walking paths by the river were all washed out. Huge trees can still be seen sweeping along in the currents: it is a dangerous time to be on the river. Most of the snow seems to have melted off the hillsides, though, and the water levels have dropped off significantly.

The leaves have all popped, and the wildflowers are budding and blooming. Purple spikes of lupine flash among the green and along the roadsides. The Jacob's ladder has just begun to open its little purple-blue flowers, and the bearberry is hung with tiny, pink bell shaped fairy-flowers. The labrador tea looks to flower soon, as do the bluebells. Our little hillside in front of the house will be covered in fireweed again this year, too!

We've been passing our time outside, trying to clean up the yard bit by bit, raking and burning brush. The area we cleared for the garden last fall is a mess of rocks and chewed up trees, it is incredibly overwhelming but I've been managing it by cleaning it up in sections. I hope to put in another 4 raised beds soon, and plant them with a green manure crop of red clover. It's hard to get much done with a toddler, though! He needs to be watched carefully with the dogs, as his gentle pats can often quickly turn to grabbing handfuls of hair and jowl and yanking with all his strength! I often spend a good part of the day just wandering around the property behind Aedan, helping him jump over logs, watching him explore the world. No complaints there!

I've been taking him to the pool regularly, too, and I'm happy to report that he's loving the water this year. The other day P and I were there together with him, and we got him to put his face in the water and blow some bubbles! Shortly after that, he lost his footing and dunked right under. He was on the verge of losing it, but we acted like it was no big deal and he decided it must not have been.

Sunday we're heading to Whitehorse for another midwife appointment. I'm finally showing a respectable baby-belly, and the little one is making their presence well known with kicks and pokes!

The other little one is waking from his nap...I'll try to post some photos later.

A moment I'd like to remember...

From my journal, April 2nd:

A pause in our walk so Aedan can run up and down a little rise in the path, while I contemplate the sun, so high and warm in the sky, not long ago barely able to peer above the hills.  A raven calls from the tree tops. Aedan stops, points, says "bird" in his way. The raven calls again, and my boy answers, crying "Ah! Ah!" with a big smile on his face.

Wild Imagination

The sun doesn't crest the hills 'til around 10 am, but once it does, it's a brilliant day. The trees stand shrouded in snow against a clear blue sky. It's cold today; the air warms to -35 C with whatever heat it can pull from the weak sun.

I haven't had the dogs out in a couple of days, so after lunch I pack the babe onto my back and we set out into the woods.

The trees are lit in a golden light, it hits them at close to a 90 degree angle; the sun is not high in the sky. It is quiet but for the crunch of my snowshoes on the trail. The dogs are far ahead, and Aedan has fallen asleep nestled down in our parka.

I come over a small rise and see the dogs up ahead, sniffing madly at something on the trail. As I approach, I see scattered tufts of fur. It is pale brown, white and soft grey. Suddenly, my walk takes on a sinister note. I scan around for tracks, for sign of the struggle, but I see only old, criss-crossing snowshoe hare tracks, and the clumsy wallows of my small dogs in the deeper snow.

The dogs disappear up ahead again, and I continue on, thinking that perhaps I am not the only predator to prowl along this path.

The silence of the forest is not so peaceful now: it takes on a new depth, seeming almost deliberate. What creatures watch me from the acres of brush and shadows all around? Every so often I stop, convinced I hear something creeping along behind me, its steps concealed beneath the noise of my snowshoes. I hold my breath and hear nothing.

Smaller trees are bent low under the weight of the undisturbed snow; they look like weird gnomes and mythical beasts frozen in time, or some bizarre topiary gone wild. Walls of spruce and gnarled old willow spring up in my path: the forest conspires to lead me astray. I stop again, listening. For a moment, the conspicuous silence presses around me. Then, the dog's bark echoes back to me. The baby wakes up and begins to cry. The path opens up again before me. I double back on my trail and we hurry home.

Snow!

Over the last few days we've had quite a bit of snow. It's still snowing now as I type this post. It's a grey day, and it's been spent mostly indoors.

Yesterday, though, the snow stopped falling for the afternoon and it was just right for snowshoeing (and later, snow shovelling!)

I packed Aedan into my amauti (no tears this time!), strapped on my snowshoes, and away we went into the woods.

The closest I've got to a full length mirror...












Aedan got to do some exploring on his own!


Funny face!


Hanging with the dogs in the nicely shoveled walkway!

Hope you're enjoying your winter, whatever it may look like!

Out for a Stroll

I just love that Aedan is on his own two feet these days. That means he can explore the world at his own level and his own pace! This afternoon we took a little stroll in the woods around our house.

Here we go!


I just love this action shot of Cilla running up to Aedan!


Stopping to pick a berry!






We found an old boot! There is lots of decaying bits in the woods from when they were building the Dempster highway back in the 70's.


Hi, Mama!


Hi, doggies!




Beautiful fall grasses.


Fireweed all gone to seed.

A reminder

I've been feeling rather blue today, down about a few different things. As I walked along the trail late this morning, Aedan snoring in the carrier on my chest, I was lost in my head, picking over my sadness and holding up the worst bits to the light. My internal monologue was bleak, and I was hardly paying any attention to the forest around me.

Suddenly, I stopped. Before my eyes, a strand of lichen, like long, course black hair, was draped over a low hanging branch. Pendant upon the lichen was a crystal of ice. As I stood staring at the sunlight glinting off the ice, I heard the territorial drumming of a woodpecker echoing through the trees.

I stood, listening for a time, completely pulled out of my melancholy.

The nagging chatter in my head was silent.

The ache in my breast subsided.

I was abruptly brought back into the moment, and reminded that this life can be so simple and so beautiful.

False Spring

Wednesday evening, a warm south wind began to blow. The trees swayed, black against the darkening sky, and the snow flew off in heavy clumps. The warm wind blew through the night, and by Thursday morning, the thermometer on our porch read -2 C. 

-2 C !!

At dawn, I put on a few light layers, bundled Aedan into his parka and slipped him into the Ergo carrier, strapped on my snow shoes and took out through the woods with the dogs. It was a beautiful morning, and the sky was mostly clear. Breathing in the moist air, I could almost let myself believe that this was the beginning of the end of winter.

But alas, I know it is not. 

Excited Suzie!

Doggies on the trail.

Pete and Suzie, back at the house.

It's still warm today, though, -1 C by our thermometer. Vehicles start without being plugged in. The house is so warm I'm wearing a t-shirt without a sweater. I don't dread a trip to the outhouse. I feel so spoiled!

It's supposed to remain mild for another 4 or 5 days anyway, so I'll enjoy it while it lasts! 

(and I promise soon to post about something other than the weather!)

Here Comes the Sun

Sun! Yesterday we saw the first few patches of sunlight shining in on the walls.

Today, we all bundled up against the 30 below cold, and went out for a walk to soak up the rays. The sun is up over the hills, at least briefly, and the tree tops are all illuminated in its light. We'd pause wherever it broke through the forest, and stand with our faces upturned.

P exclaimed: "I feel like I'm gettin' a tan!"

In town right now, the sun shines on top of the Dome and the surrounding hills, but direct sunlight won't hit the streets or peek through windows for another couple of weeks.

It's amazing how we northerners come to celebrate the sun like this. I guess I always took it for granted, growing up in Ontario. Here, we celebrate the summer solstice with a big party on the Dome (a tradition since the gold rush days. Laura Berton talks about it in her book "I Married the Klondike"). Winter solstice is usually celebrated on a more intimate scale, but celebrated nonetheless. And when you first see direct sunlight again, sometime in January, you run around town telling anyone who'll listen!

When do you notice the shorter days where you live? When do you first start to see the days lengthen?

Sun-seeking

It's 20 below outside. The branches of the spruce trees hang low under their burden of snow. I go carefully along the forest trail, the dogs running ahead of me, the babe sleeping peacefully, nestled in the wrap under the coat. It's past eleven in the morning and the sun has finally crested the hills. The sky is brilliant and clear and the sunlight filters through the trees, casting brighter patches on the blue-shaded snow.

We duck under the drooping boughs, and skirt the trees that lean across the path. But for Cilla's occasional bark at a squirrel, sounding muffled in the closeness of the season, and the crunch of my muk-luks, it is silent. No more traffic on the highway. Even the chickadees are silent today.

Eventually, the path rises up and the dark spruce open out into a clearing of alder trees, their bare, twisted branches silhouetted against the bright blue of the sky. The ground slopes down to where water springs up from the earth--frozen now beneath the snow. Here, the sun shines without the hindrance of the thick woods. The dogs run up and down the hill, my canine familiars, rejoicing in the light.  I stop and turn my face towards it, closing my eyes and breathing in the sharpness of the air. I feel the sun on my face, and imagine that bit of bared skin passing the light on through my whole body. I feel the light running through me. Physically, I feel lighter: my shoulders relax under the slight weight of my son on my chest; I feel as though I'm rising up through my body. I feel lighter in spirit, knowing the sun is there, if only briefly.

I store the light deep down inside, and will bring it out tonight, as I light candles and lamps to illuminate the darkness that closes in around us.