Lessons in Gratitude

As we all know, the year 2008 has been a bumpy ride.  Outside of our bubble, only the TV or newspaper reminding of its tumultuous upheavals, the evidence is clear that the world is ready for a change.  

As fall creeps into winter (for some this has come sooner than they would have liked), living things become hibernating things, including humans.  We hole ourselves up in a warm place, ready to cozy up next to a roaring fire, a blanket, a good book, and hot chocolate in hand.  In North Carolina, we are fortunate enough to have a quick, easy winter, although this is all relative.  Natives to this state complain as much as people did back home in Minnesota.  The wind frigid, bringing temperatures below freezing in NC.  This would be considered a warm spring day, the first signs of thaw, in Minnesota.  With temps closer to 40 degrees, you would see teenage kids, defiant against their parents, wearing t-shirts, sometimes shorts, even flip-flops.  So daring, but it does feel tropical when you have had 6 months of temps at our below 10 degrees above zero.   I am grateful for the change in seasons, bringing fresh, reborn life to the surface every year.  

Here in North Carolina, I always have to chuckle when schools and businesses are cancelled due to the measly inch of snow received the night prior.  But, I think the state only owns a few snowplows, sand spreaders and clearing machines.  We have it relatively easy here, and I think that is why we stay.  College, or for that matter, 16 years of schooling, has exhausted us.  We enjoy the easy life, but I have the itch to do something greater.  I am grateful for what I have been given, the chance to go to college and study something that I absolutely love: soil.  The basis for all living things on this earth.

I hope to take my GRE and go on to get my masters.  Money is always the forefront of my mind when contemplating when, where, and how I will accomplish this goal.  A masters degree opens doors, especially for a female in the science field.  I see them open, and desperately want to pass through.  I am grateful for the option to further my education, no barriers holding me back.

Joseph is starting to become a bit of a celebrity here at the pottery during the openings.  It is very encouraging.  We should stay in North Carolina in order to take advantage of the hype around his art.  Where, we have no idea.  Maybe somewhere closer to the mountains.  I am grateful for the opportunity to have the choice on where we will love and start a family.

My boss passed away one week before Christmas.  He was diagnosed with lung cancer only a month previous, never having smoked in his life.  It was tragic, nobody having the time or energy to really mourn and say goodbye.  I still wait to hear his footsteps coming down the hall, charging in our doorway, asking "Who wants to go on a one-way?"  Meaning, who wants to walk up to his parked car 2 miles away at one of the local restaurants, the General Store.  They had sweet tea; he always got a chicken caesar salad and a tea, half sweet and half un-sweet.  The walk was always wonderful, getting our blood pumping, moving tense joints created from a stressful accounting day.  The conversation was always joyful, full of anecdotes and the latest gossip from the town or from the New York Times.  He was generous, never wanting more money, but more lasting, strong friendships.  He had one with me.  Mark Estill will be greatly missed.  I am grateful for a healthy body, so young and strong.  Please let me nurture it so that I may wear my days out on this earth, satisfied with my accomplishments from the day. 

We had the opportunity to travel home over the Christmas break.  It was cold, but we acclimated quickly to the below zero temperatures.  We saw close family and extended family, old and young.  We saw our family dog, Bailey, old, deaf, and blind, but still as cuddly as ever.  I wasn't ready to leave.  Seven days fly by, especially when you are traveling across half the state to see people you love.  I am grateful for the opportunity to be able to travel home, as plane flights increase in cost every year.  My family and Joseph's family are both incredible; I am so incredibly lucky, and grateful.

Sights and Sounds of a Typical Day for Amanda

My day starts in the middle of the night, waking up to the sound of Joseph snorting a bit in his sleep.

Morning arrives, with the serenade of a male Cardinal (seriously, he is at our window every morning).

Fill the kettle with water (from our well via the sink).  Grind coffee beans and fill the coffee pot (ceramic, which should come as no surprise).  Kettle does not whistle, but does sound like an on-coming freight train, a multi-toned alarm to alert you that your water is, indeed, at 100 degrees celsius.

Joseph turns the TV on, to the only station he will watch in the morning - Good Morning America.  Watch the local morning news and then national news.  Eat breakfast - for myself, I usually have old fashioned oatmeal.  We don't have a microwave so everything relies on our gas stove.  Add maple syrup and some walnuts.

Change and out the door (both of us) by 8:30am.  We're very fortunate to have employers that don't make us start work too early.  Just as long as the work gets done.

I watch Joseph walk to work, only 100 yards from our humble cabin.  Sometimes in envy, most times a feeling of gratitude.

Our cabin faces the back of a barn, which houses the finished pottery on display.  We also see the Hewitt's Kubota tractor parked, in what I could consider, our "front yard," but nothing is ever "ours" when you're renting.  Walking past the barn, the two large kilns come into view, the Hewitt house, and the pottery.  Sometimes, I see Mark outside taking out boards of recently thrown, now drying, bowls and mugs.  In the walking path from the barn to the "parking lot" where I leave my vehicle, there are enormous pots the size and weight of an average man.  Stunning pieces of art, reflecting the morning light, dew collecting in their scratched-in designs.  What a fortunate bunch, we are.  

90% of the time I drive my car to work, only 2.5 miles away.  If I get the chance and it's not cold, rainy, or dark (and I don't have to haul worm food from the local restaurant), I get to ride bike.  The car creaks and cranks, jars and sighs, like the ancient whale that would rather rest on the surface, the ebb and flow all-inclusive.

Drive to the Industrial plant to pick up paperwork and check on my worm composting operation.  The little buggers look happy, delightfully eating their way in and out of the food that I sent through my "worm smoothie machine" the previous evening.  This time of year, the majority of the food are the edible greens like chard, kale, or collards.  This summer I had a lot of tomatoes.  At the Industrial plant, I encounter many things, most of which have become everyday life for me:  a large, 18-wheel tanker pulling in with a load of feedstock (aka chicken fat) to make the next 1.5 days worth of fuel, brightly colored doors invite you into each building, greenhouses and an organic farm hug the perimeters of the visible landscape, a bee hive, dogs playing in the grass, a grove of banana plants, a larger-than-life chess set, the smell of biodiesel as an employee drives past you in their Mercedes or Volkswagon.  Again, not sights, sounds, or smells that 99.9% of the world will encounter, but have somehow become typical to me.

The day includes a lot of sitting at a computer, crunching numbers, pushing papers.  Some phone calls, "We need to follow up on an outstanding invoice," I can't wait to let go of the jargon and live outside the world of admin.  Occasionally, I get to sell some worms, demo some worms, or just play with some worms while it is still daylight.  As long as my hands get to touch soil once per day, I am content, but never satisfied.  It is not enough to justify five years of college, but it is enough for one day in the life that is me.

Alaska - Truly Mystical

In pursuit of the most pristine wilderness, we encountered a place we thought only existed in our imaginations.  Alaska is stunning, untamed, and at times, untouchable.  So, the journey begins...

Depart North Carolina for MN for a wedding anniversary celebration for Joseph's grandparents.  From that point, we boarded our plane for a direct flight to Anchorage.  Lucky for us, we were traveling against the sun, gaining more time as we flew, heading northbound over the pock-marked landscape of Canada, stunning wetlands glimmering up at us.  We noted that you could clearly see that path that the ancient glaciers traversed, embedding distinct scarring into the land.

Outside of Anchorage is the area called Turnagain Arm, with the world's largest tidal zone.  Here they have the mud flats, which pose a serious threat to any nieve tourist or native.  It acts like quicksand, making it difficult to escape.  It happens often enough that the local fire department has a special truck and protocol for rescuing anyone caught in this awful trap.  To free the person, they force water into the sand, helping to "float" the person up and out of the muck.  The sign below mentions something of the tidal zone, however, you can see that this sign (and many others) have become part of target practice.

Our ride was a sweet one!  We asked for a compact car, and we definitely got what we asked for.  It even has racing stripes across the top.  I am guessing that we averaged about 40 mpg for the entire trip.  We had to wait in line to enter a one-way tunnel that is shared with the train.  It only goes to the town of Whittier.  Here is where we depart for our glacier cruise into Prince William Sound.

Begin the cruise!  Tons of gorgeous waterfalls cascading down the mountainsides as the glaciers melt above.  And, yes, the water is really that shade of blue-green (it's also about 40 degrees in temp - don't fall in!).
Our first large glacier.  Here we are about one mile away from the face which towers over 600 feet.  This was the most active glacier that we saw.
Here you can see the entire face of the glacier crashing into the water.  It was the largest calving that the tour company has seen.  It created a surge of water probably 8 feet high, threatening to topple over our cruise boat.  We high-tailed it out of there, some people seeing visions of the fate of the Titanic.  It was breath-taking.
Moose!  Unfortunately, this one is in a wildlife refuge, but it looks like a National Geographic photo (sort-of!).

Here is where you can see evidence of the 1964 earthquake that shook Alaska.  The dead trees that you see in the foreground sunk, allowing salt water into their roots which killed them.  In a few places, the ground sunk up to 8 feet.

The day after our glacier cruise we decided to take an impromptu trip down to Seward.  It wasn't part of our original itinerary, but so many people said to go there so we jumped on board a wildlife cruise.  Here are some the creatures we saw....

Sea Lions...

Humpback whales breaching....

Sleeping humpback whale

Bird rookery (bird habitat where they create a hierarchy, closest to the water being the lowest rank)...

It was a wonderful day, although while we were in pursuit of the breaching whales we happened upon some rough waters, whitecaps, and rain.  It was a trying time for those lacking iron stomachs.

After departing Seward, staying only for the afternoon, we continued on through the stunning Kenai Peninsula.  It is known as "bear country."  Constantly, Joseph and I were searching on road sides, along mountain tops, on river banks for any sign of bear activity, but found nothing.  I guess brown bears don't frequent highways.  What a surprise.  This ain't Yellowstone, baby!

Our destination was the southern-most point in Alaska reachable by vehicle: Homer.  The drive in felt like the drive up to Duluth, MN for anyone that has done it.  Taking Hwy. 35 N, the hills climb around you, the temperature drops, and you finally cross around the belly of the mountain anticipating the explosion of hustle and bustle, people and buildings, cars, the smell of the water, the lights, the trees, the sun setting on the Lake; feels like home.  This is what it was like to arrive in Homer.  Stopping at a scenic stop on the side of the road, Joseph and I both remarked that this place felt familiar, like home.  Too bad we were thousands of miles from it.  Or were we?  Who knows.  Maybe in another life.  

Day 2 in Homer involved a half-day kayak trip, including lunch.  During our trip, we encountered elephant kelp, puffins, sea otters, and other interesting sea life as well as some fantastic rock formations (seen below).  Our lunch included some sea lettuce and kelp (I know it sounds weird, but it was truly delectable).  Apparently, you could eat a sea star if you were that hungry.  I think it would taste like salt-water taffy, but with prickles.

On the Homer "spit," which is the 4-mile long peninsula out into Kachemak Bay, there are all sorts of businesses: art dealers, wood carvers, fishing and kayaking charters, and the most fantastical seafood you could ever indulge in.  The scallops were buttery and soft, the crab was to die for, smoked salmon from heaven (or from that river just behind you).  Here was a common sight: an employee of the charter cleaning that days catch made by the tourists on board.

Look what I found, mom!  Joseph went out on his own charter while I wandered around town and investigated the art galleries, local food coop and craft stores.  He caught about 30 pounds of fish.  We had this Halibut professionally cleaned and package, sent via airmail to North Carolina.  Now, we have 8 pounds Halibut (try it in a Ginger Teriyaki marinade and you will just melt)  and another 5 pounds of regular and smoked Salmon to indulge in until our next trip.  Yum!

Eagles were an all-too-common sighting in Homer, with over 60 living on or near the "spit."  They became as regular as the sea gulls.

Homer was our "home away from home away from home."  It truly was magical.

From Homer, we continued our way back up through the north, stopping for a night in Palmer (the neighbor town to Wasilla - famed hometown of a now famous former mayor, Sarah Palin).  Palmer felt like we were in "Farmtown," USA; there were grazing cows, pastures, massive vegetable crops (midnight sun helps out a lot when aiming for 1 ton pumpkins!), and an upcoming county fair complete with tractor pull.  

Here, we masqueraded  around on horseback for a few hours in the woods, all the while having to continue conversation, although sometimes superficial, in order to warn the bears that we were riding through their country.  Never have I felt more vulnerable and humbled in nature, no longer feeling as though I am the dominant animal (although, we were ever?).

Next stop....Denali!

I wish I had our videos up right now to show you the expanse of this mountain.  It is truly fantastic.  We were one of the lucky ones to see it; only 20 days out of the tourist season typically are clear enough to have Denali visible.  This mountain is so large that it creates its own weather systems, making it equally difficult to see.  

We opted for a bus tour into the National Park.  No cars are allowed within the park, with only one dirt road (2 lanes) traveling 8 hours into the park, then turning around to traverse the same road back.  Here we spotted our first momma grizzly with two cubs.  Apparently, this time of year the bears are eating mostly bugs and roots pulled from the earth.

Watch out for that moose!

I will definitely need to add videos in a future blog.  We were so overtaken with awe on our adventure that we barely took any photos and pretty much all video.  Soon to come!

Our night was spent in Talkeetna, which is an old gold mining town south of Denali.  This is where all the mountain climbers start their climb by boarding a prop plane and flying up to base at 7,000 feet on the side of the mountain.  At that point, it takes 2 weeks to climb up, stopping at two more bases before reaching the summit, then 1 week to climb down, which is sometimes the most dangerous part.  

In our B&B, we were told by the house-lady (she might have been a little tipsy) that we were staying alone in a house that was haunted.  There just happened to be no other renters that night.  I barely slept.  

The next morning, we awoke to a mildly foggy day ready to board our prop plane for a summit Denali flight.  It was intense.  Another reason to get videos up on this site.  We had to wear oxygen masks because our ascent was so quick and the cabin wasn't pressurized.  

The plane went to 21,000 feet to view the summit of Mt. McKinley (known as Denali in Alaska).  We were able to see the camp where all the mountain climbers were resting due to a recent blizzard and sub-zero temps.  The pressure in the plane was so great and the elevation was enough to make me ill.  Both Joseph and I felt numbness and tingly in our arms and legs, a bit of dizziness, and an icky stomach.  But, no casualties!  We landed safe and sound, having experienced the summit of Denali minus the frostbitten toes and frozen eyelashes.

To give you a feel for Talkeetna (sort of a hippy-haven), I have included a moose sighting.

On our way out of Talkeetna, heading south to Anchorage, we stopped at an old Russian Orthodox cemetery in Eklutna dating back to 1650.  The dead were buried in little dollhouses called "spirit houses."  It is still an active cemetery with over 100 "houses" in it.  The size of the house is determined by the social status of the individual and the colors correspond to the clan affiliation (this is an area where natives were converted to Russian Orthodox christianity).  I really enjoyed it and could have spent hours here, taking photos and analyzing the little houses, very childlike.  

Wrapping up our time in Alaska was bittersweet.  As we arrived in Anchorage, cold and rainy, we realized that we were leaving a place that could have been "home."  We weren't ready to leave, didn't feel like we should leave, and yet our lives were calling us back to North Carolina.  We made some final stops in Anchorage, watching windsurfers in the bay, going for a walk, picking wildflowers (shhh, don't tell anybody, I don't think we were supposed to).  We will be back.  There is no question.

A New Addition to the Sand Family

Everyone....meet Chloe!

We (meaning Joseph) fell in love with this bunny at the county fair and picked her up from the breeder two days later. Isn't she the cutest?!?!