All Categories - Alaska Good Life

Guitars

7/3/2019

My father-in-law is a retired Architect turned luthier. Over the last four years I have honed my own artistic eye as a result of having access to Matt’s workbench and technical journey. It has been an honor to capture photos of this process. This summer, I am taking Advanced Digital Photography through UAF with Charles Mason to help me sort through and narrate this project. Here is where I am at so far...

Sand Shapes

5/14/2019

This is a sketch I made on the end of the spit.

I've recently returned from Homer with 19 students, two co-teachers (Dick and Joe), some committed parent volunteers, and two poems.

Wabi Sabi Tanka

Living relic scraped
Its oft told myths on bark scrolls.
Pointed, unpleasant
places exposed, ugly and
Whole disfigurement. Superb.

Sand Shapes

Less definite, less rigid, less certain, lest
We forget what love is and how to begin again.
At each tide, the sand concaves and convexes
into feathers too heavy for flight.

Sand shapes itself into mountain ranges,
River basins, and pools that vein new life into the sun.
I am beholden to the promise of a new day, a new wave.
I have stamped these sand shapes, here.

Loneliness is improbable as grains reverberate
You back to me, back to you, back to me.
The sand shapes then swirl into the belly of a wave.
I whisper, "You're sublime, everything is sublime."

Meekly reverential, I swell and the ocean takes residence
In my marrow, and I am sand shapes and weightless.

Painting

5/6/2019

Over the last few years my creativity has tugged me into the world of painting. I first became smitten with acrylics and worked on canvas for about a year. Then last fall I decided to pursue an art degree and took my first semester-long watercolor class. Now I have finished my second semester. I'm witness to poetry, sculpture, and painting braiding an interesting story. Next, I'm taking some digital photography classes. Ideas are in process here.

“A painting is never finished -
it simply stops in interesting places.”
― Paul Gardner

Mindietta Vogel on Behance

Hi there! My name is Mindietta. Among many other roles I am an artist, poet, and I get to be a 6-12 grade English teacher. As for hobbies and interests, I have been writing and playing with photography for years, publishing it on a fun blog at www.alaskagoodlife.com.

Early January

1/5/2019

Chicago

9/15/2018

Good things come to those who wait, I guess. This was my favorite city I have visited so far. It is special.

We arrived in the Gold Coast in Chicago. The Thompson is perfectly positioned at the edge of a residential area at the end of the Magnificent Mile.

Flirtatious window displays twinkle just around the corner from serious, disesteeming brownstones that turn their gazes through oak leaves to Lake Michigan.

We explored the downtown area for four days, absorbing the rich history and art of this place.

From the iconic architecture to a 19th century baseball team
pitching ball in Lincoln park, the city’s confidence in itself is infatuating.

This city is a City. We rode up to the 95th floor in the Chicago Park District for a cocktail that costs more than a plate of dinner. As the sun sinks, the buildings transform themselves into incandescent cliffs of steel and glass from which we can see way down into the shadowed chasms of the noisy streets.

These streets are where we found food we will remember. We savored the bites and found ourselves pulled back again and again to places like The Purple Pig where for two different nights we bellied up to the bar for food and libations. There we made momentary friendships with a mother and daughter from Mumbai and couple from Chatanooga. There was the Lux Bar just across the street from our hotel, were we also chatted and walked and sipped and savored Chicago.

The art was my interest. Wolfgang Butress’ sculpture Lucent is 14 feet in diameter and represents the 3,106 easily visible stars from the Northern Hemisphere. The half-sphere is reflected between water and mirror-polished steel.

We see ourselves in the art that we admire, literally sometimes, like in Cloud Gate. And...

I see myself in the shadow and light that Monet in On the Bank of the Seine, Bennecourt.

I see myself in the distressed and tired eyes of Van Gogh’s Self-Portrait.

I see who I want to become as an artist in the pen strokes of Alberto Giametti’s Diego Seated in the Studio

I see who I am in the creamy brushstrokes in the Shoe Shop painted by Elizabeth Sparhawk-Jones.

I see my front porch as the perfect subject of a painting because of Yellow House 2 by Alex Katz.

And I see my girlhood naughtiness in Stamford after Brunch by John Currin.

The iO theater and Second City are the home of the art of improv and comedy. The Improvised Shakespeare Company was our favorite. These players on the stage weaved iambic pentameter quips into several improvisational acts over the course of an hour. Second City was high energy and high production. And, we now know - in our bones - that there are few things more life-affirming than a belly laugh and a beer.

So on our last day, smitten with a city so alive, I sat in Mariano Plaza and painted for hours as Adam slept on the 5th floor of a stylish hotel and the sun wrapped around the city like a blanket nestling me with a knowing that we will be back so many more times.

Hollywood

9/15/2018

East Twin Pass

6/15/2018

This hike was a realization of Jessie's dream last year when we accidentally turned left instead of right.

I love the twin peaks trail. It is stunning and comfortable.

Jessie, Mary Ann, and I took on this trail one foot after the other. We moved slow and I experienced the terrain and the purpose of hiking in a different way. At times, I focused on each step, heel to toe - just as I learned from Patty at Ageya in Homer.

Forget me not

Smaller than I think,
Always it surprises.
Pearls of blue and yellow
in bouquets
that rejoice and exult.

They are a paradox.
A tiny flower for our
gargantuan state.

I put a small tuft
behind my ear
and feel pretty,
oh so lovely.

Bear Point

6/6/2018

Google Maps

For a very long time, I have wanted to climb Bear Mountain. I think part of what kept me away from this one was that I found it so intimidating from the car window on the Glenn Highway. The face of this peak casts its shadow from the morning sun on Peters Creek and loomed in my imagination for far too long.

The reality is that you end up driving most the way up. For the Bear Point hike, we walked about 5 miles out-and-back and gained 1,600 feet in elevation. It was steep at the saddle, but overall a great hike. Later this summer, I would like to do the Eklutna Peak and maybe the loop to compare the two hikes. The Bear Mountain trail is unmarked but is an obvious up-and-off-to-the-left turn about 1/4 mile from the Peters Creek Valley trailhead.

Here are some other resources I found helpful before Jessie and I headed out:

I had a brand new pair of hiking shoes for this trip. They turned out to be great, and I loved taking off my shoes at the top to give my feet a rest - so refreshing. Sunshine speckled through the clouds, there were no bugs, and a pleasant breeze had us layering-up at the top.

I love to look down at my home. We saw the mouth of the Eagle River as it gives way to the Knick Arm. The Arm also receives waters from Ship, Fish, and Peter's creeks. The largest tributary is the Susitna River, and the Knik Arm also stretches into the Matanuska and Knik rivers, most of which can be seen from the flat, rocky perch of Bear Mountain.

Homer Again

5/30/2018

On the last day of school, rig packed, I was out of town on the way to Homer. I took my time on the drive, and I grabbed some meat and cheese from Fromagio's to share and a sandwich for the road.

In a flash, the clouds blushed and Kathy snapped this picture with her iPad at sunset. I was already in bed, but glad to be by the ocean, next to nature, with family and friends.

Homer is often a destination of creativity, restoration, and indulgence for me. I eat out too much and find some mode of expression. In the past its been photography and writing. More recently, it is painting, sketching, and more writing.

It's so exciting that the Homer Spit Oyster Bar is in its second season. I was thrilled to belly up and have some great bites. The menu is yummy. I went back for grilled cheese that was more cheese than I thought possible to squeeze between two slices of bread.

The Tickled Pear offered some flavorful food-truck grub. We grabbed a bunch of small bites to share.

Then, there was the gelato. Somehow the Affogato became a daily afternoon delight. The term means "drowned" in Italian which is what happens to the gelato once it is drenched in a shot of hot espresso. It still stirs a sense of gratitude and a smile as I write this sitting at home.

After days of fires, family, and food - I decided to stay one more night. Matt recommended staying in one of the lodgings on the spit. It was an excellent choice.

My last evening in Homer was a good one. I walked the beach and sketched and sat by one last fire with Jessie and Paul.

For dinner, and my single favorite bite, I ordered a K-Bay Octopus Poke to go from Little Mermaid. Please do this: Sit on the beach to watch the waves and the sand and the people and savor the layers of flavor.

On the way home, I ambled up the highway stopping in at the Kasilof Museum. It was neat to walk into century-old buildings. The historical perspective is singularly focused on the settlers' experience starting about 130 years ago. It is fascinating and inspiring to see the desperation, determination, and pioneer spirit required by the frontier men and women.

The painful interplay between the first nation peoples, the Russian settlements, the countless natural-resource booms and busts, the American settlements, and the militarization of this huge state is as epic as the landscape. What does this have to do with Homer? I don't know except that I think everything is connected, even if I don't understand how.

Homer is a happy place for my heart. I love what I get to see and do. Many a painting will be inspired by the five days I spent there.

Pussy Willows in Spring

4/12/2018

Pussy Willows in Spring

Mother Spring slept. Sunrise distant. Twitch of
Forefinger, a flutter of an eyelid,
Then silence, Crisp snow on cheeks. Ice air breath
February rose, fell. Cumbrous silence.

Winter Rested. Spring Coiled. A little light
On the ridge. Mother Spring stretched her breath long.
Towards light, fingers reached. Her body lengthened,
Snow fell from her shoulders and into soil.

Trickling waters from dripping snow, soon flowed.
Dripping sun and dripping darkness. Day was
Never now night. Spring stood. She stretched her arms
Wide. March dripped into buoyant, bright April.

Out a kitchen window, a furry flash:
Against blue sky, a pussy willow branch.

Dreaming for Snow

12/10/2017

I can see it in mine, and yours too - the corners
of eyes and mouth sag, weighted by our slushy urban slog.
Unurbane, we melt into the night like Dali's clocks,
Counting, counting the minutes of loss.

Soon I'll look into the sun that cleans
every corner and highlights the dust,
and diamonds the snow, and delivers
from darkness my laden soul.

I bargain, beguile, beg for ten degrees
to turn disconsolate rain into sanguine snow.
So snow now,
now
snow,
so we may play in the light of the darkest day.

Thanksgiving in AZ

11/27/2017

Family

It has been a few years since we celebrated my favorite holiday with my parents. It was so great to have this time with my brother, Courtney, and Scarlett too!

We all met down at the holiday lighting ceremony by the channel.

Scarlett led me through an awesome pool-side yoga practice.

Mom and me chat by the fire.

Uncle Adam coached us through a game of Go Fish.

It was so good to have fried turkey in my life again.

Each evening we talked all together under the stars.

Food

Of course, we spent some good times in the kitchen. For the first time, I made Adam's favorite pecan pie. I got the recipe from Kathy and it was a huge hit. I will be making this pie every year from now on. Aaron made stuffed mushrooms, Courtney whipped up some yams, Mom had the turkey puffs done early in the day, and Dad fried up the best turkey. It was all so delicious.

Golf

When we weren't hanging at home, we were on the golf course. We got five rounds in, in as many days. The best was at Emerald Canyon.

Emerald Canyon

This course is nestled in desert canyons and the most unique round of golf we have played. The course zigzags across the highway, then climbs and winds up to tees that pull the ball through canyons and over cliffs. On the fourth hole, Adam ricocheted his strike, more pinball than golf.

The Refuge

This setting was perfect, right on the lake. We had a delicious meal before our round. Into the sunset, we played on this one-time Arnold Palmer course. The place was empty, but we were happy to be there, and we'll be back again.

Lake Havasu Golf Club - East & West

The west course was more fun, for us. It was an easy breezy place to show up and get an early round of golf in. While the east course has some great views of the city and lake, the west course is more interesting. These fairways are as narrow as Emerald Canyon, but the walls are made up of houses, yikes. We fared well.

Memories of desert sunsets will continue to warm my bones despite the deep, dark December and January that await us. I'll smile when I think back to the warm weather, big family hugs, and all the good times we had.

St. Louis

11/26/2017

There is public art, history, architecture, and (of course) the arch. The arch is a wild expression of engineering and design. It was finished in 1965, the year my dad was born, and the sardine can that elevated me 630 feet evoked the space age and the promise of that time.

There is pride stacked upon historical eras, stacked upon each other. New construction is humming as a new layer establishes a contemporary take on its place along the Mississippi river. The city doesn't have too many more people than Anchorage, and it feels that way.

Matanuska Peak

9/3/2017

After ascending Matanuska I wondered where the name came from. The answer is simple and complicated. Pete LaFrance offers some beautiful insight.

We started out a little after 8am. The temperature was forecasted to be abnormally hot for this first Saturday in August.

When I was walking the first of twelve miles, I began to write this post in my head. I thought that I would report the first mile as a hefty climb straight up, but in comparison to the peak that awaited us, it was but a moderate rise.

Miles two and three are a lovely romp through rolling and wide-open alpine. We stopped for lunch at mile four.

Yoga and sustenance

Ch'atanhtnu

From far away, everything is glazed with whimsy and ease.
Pebbles to rocks, rocks to boulders,
which an ancient Titan, surely, piled one on another to mold
the slanted peak.

Mytikas is the tallest peak in Greece.
Ch'atanhtnu was the Dena'ina's name for Matanuska,
"the River from Which Trail Comes Out."
Who decides what is remembered?

PWS: 10 Days | 15 Kids | 40 Miles in a Kayak

9/2/2017

Jonathan, Laura, and Bryan are skilled navigators and adventurers. Guided by their careful planning, we headed into the
brief-blue sky and waters of Prince William Sound.

Dropped at Point Nowell
Warm, pink glow settled on the mountains like silk.
I wrote: may we stay dry in the rain, joyful in our hearts, and generous in our actions.

Ten Mornings

Xtra Tuffs, forgotten. Ten mornings to go.
Let us start with ten miles to Ewan Bay.
Passing Granite Bay and rocks that crowd Junction Island,
seals furtively eye us, and orange-footed Oyster Catchers
stay grounded while gulls erupt into flight and frantic shrieks.

Zip, peal, zip: from dry suit to tent.
Storm teacher. We learn water below,
water above, water without, and water within.
At Bog Island, fingers are colorless, wrinkled fruit, and we
must think of wetness in layers.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
Bog Island becomes a convalescent home, made of polyester tarp.
To stay warm, Yoga in the rain. Two are napping.
While we rest, beached ice become snarling growlers,
I see and listen in the quiet way.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
Before crossing Jackpot Bay, we visit a waterfall.
While we lurch to avoid bear scat, dark blurs leap into vertical flows.
Tonight, we tuck our tents under a canopy
of alders against a rock wall, slicked with falling water.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
Four days of dampness and heavy brows. The sky teases with streaks of blue
that enliven ice-green bergs. Suddenly, sun spills over clouds.
Wordless gasps and elation melt our moods.
Glacial air chases warm rocks. We race to dry our gear.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit. Again Island found, in Gaanaak Cove.
Blueberries drip from the bushes like the rain of the past four days.
Yellow arnica stand like sunflowers, and I feel her here.
The commuting breeze sounds like morning traffic on the Glenn.
Chenega, that achy glacier, growls like a distant tarmac.

This morning, rays of sunshine dance on my tent for a few seconds.
Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
We arrive to Nassau Fjord as unwelcome, party crashers
To hundreds of seals lounging on their icy chaises.
Don't Go, I think. We were uninvited.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
Haibun, Didactic Cinquain, and Diamante:
These formulas are like the handrail method Jonathan teaches for reading a map.
Intentionally point off course to the stream that goes into the lake,
or veer to intersect the road to the parking lot.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
At Dual Head, the tide is a mirror to itself.
The echoing waves, equal and opposite to my breath.
I relish the watercolor and poetry on the beach under our
first and only setting and then rising sunshine.

Zip, stuff, zip: from tent to dry suit.
Despite the small-craft advisory in Whittier yesterday,
We are delivered from the Sound on calm waters
as we reunite with family and former self.
I believe I am more than I was.

Erin Johnson | Thank you for being with us. You will always be with us.

6/24/2017

Into the Darkness they Go, the Wise and the Lovely

On Monday, my husband waits until I get home to say the words.
I go to unload the car and carry back tears.
Sitting, stirring, I begin to take out stitches on
a strayed shawl for the third time.

An artist and an adventurer, she sipped Dickle and ate meat
and raised chickens. She slept in a small house to live spaciously.
Erin was tall and never knowing of how she showed me to
express, explore, expand, to exist.

On a long ago Friday, with frayed Carhartt pants, we were
chatting about women, and their depictions in magazines,
Erin says,“Well, they’re not shaped like a real woman.”
For a lasting moment, I see from her wise and lovely eyes.

Erin is a stitch unlooped from our tight knit.
A drafty gratitude, a sudden shiver. She was here, with us, with the world.
And now we are looping onto each other, tenaciously.
Even so, what are we to do with slipped stitches and this hole?

May we purl pain into artistry. All we have to do is add the t.
So we will paint. And we will climb mountains.
We will tear and we will cry and live and bleed and die.
Until then, we have no other task than to knit ourselves together.

Pepper Peak (ish)

6/19/2017

Jessie and I met at the Eklutna Lake parking lot just after 11am. Our goal was to do a quick five mile hike on the Twin Peaks trail. I thought I’d be home around 3pm. As with all adventures truly great, it didn’t go as planned. It was one of those gorgeous Alaskan days. The colors cast by jewel blues and greens that relieve me.

Our hike turned into a climb after the second bench, which is the end of the Twin Peaks trail. Jessie and I, not clear about where the twin peaks trail ended, debated whether to go left or right. At the fork in the road, we decided to go high. The climb towards Pepper Peak got confusing because it’s easy to take a game trail. We switch-backed and scrambled-up the spongy tundra until the rain clouds and distant thunder shooed us home.

Taking the Waters

I went to investigate a gently flowing stream
and discovered that it was
trickling up from the massive rock
we were climbing.

The water gurgled up and out,
then down onto smaller rocks
and then into finer rocks
that pooled the water so slightly.

Next, the history of “taking the waters”
trickled from the Romans
into my palms, and I
splashed wellness on my face.

Eyes closed, coating my flaming cheeks,
the cold water squeezed a gasp from my lips.
I splashed again and gasped again,
and again, and again.

This, with such certainty, wells up in me now:
So much can be drawn from words.
We go to the forest,
for rest.

Reflections on Summer

8/20/2016

Lessons I learned.

Write

Take a journal.

See

Look for beauty and love.

My sweet friend, Kasia got married. On the way to the church, we squeezed in a phone call to Anna who was watching her two boys nap in Ohio. Even though more than a decade has passed since we were all unmarried women working at ZAN and our lives today look little like they did back then, our friendship remains unchanged.

Congratulations to Kasia and Travis! You're one lucky guy.

I was also thrilled to spend the morning with Bekah soon-to-be Arnold on her wedding day. Your friends and family are so amazing. Thank you for the challenge and gift of capturing a few moments. Here are some of my favorite shots.

Be

Like a lake, exist in many ways.

Blueberries and Baking

7/24/2016

The rain is here for a few days, and with it came a moment to pause, pick blueberries, bake, and spend time with family. I headed up to my parent's cabin in the woods, which is a 2.5 hour drive and completely removed from the pace of the city. It takes about 24 hours after I arrive, but then it happens: I sit on the front porch and am content to stare at the lake, passing the time without thought, except to notice the sun arch past the trees.

The blueberries are in. Bright blue gems pop out against the green forest floor and stain our fingers.

Myron waits expectantly to share our harvest.

Once we rinsed the berries, we divided them up for two recipes. The first, a quick blueberry jam. The second, banana blueberry bread.

The blueberry jam was made with a bit of sugar, cinnamon, and lime juice. We cooked it down for close to 45 minutes until it became thick and condensed.

The banana bread came together quickly, and we gently folded in the blueberries before popping it into the oven.

Wild Alaskan Blueberry Jam

Banana Blueberry Bread

Alaska Golf Life

7/24/2016

As I never expected, golfing in the land of the midnight sun is undeniably beautiful.

Whether we have to wait for a moose to cross the fairway, pause as we hear a bear rustling in the woods behind us on the tee box, or find ourselves quietly pleading that we'll be able to fish our ball out of the wildness that borders the greens, our Alaska golf life has been a really good time.