The pageantry of this season urges stillness like nothing else. There is a rhythm, and it goes like this: First, the sound of rain splashes broadly on surrendering trees, and then (in mid-morning) the water droplets form rock garden patterns in the bowled leaves that have come to rest on the deck—just briefly in this silence--before the chimes signal the winds.

There are those days that seem to take form from pure kinetic energy. The work you do, the plans you lay bring into motion a day, whole in rejuvenation.

The house has never been more beautiful, and just days before the wedding a cadre of us were focused on getting the details just right. That meant setting the stage, delivering the beer, prepping the mac and cheese, tomato soup, wedding cake, and caesar dressing. The day before, Laura and Erin climbed the saddle and collected boutineer and boquet flowers. The trip was muddy but the result was the best beauty Alaska has to offer. 

The rehearsal was beautiful and just a few decisions had to be coordinated before the big day. When we returned, we had an amazing lasagna and finished prepping that last of the beef ribs and caesar salad.

With three generations in the house, it was impossible not to make the connection that we are right in the middle. Just 30 years ago, our parents and aunts and uncles were right where we are now, and we are just 30 years from helping Olive and her siblings and cousins celebrate their big day. It's an obvious realization, but one that I haven't really sat with before. It makes me thankful, quiet, and buzz with warmth. 

Here we are. . .Game day. . .5 years in the making. 
Everyone was calm, happy, and ready. The food came out without a glitch, the ceremony was sweet like honey, and the party lasted late late into the night. What a day. 

Today I'm bringing Jessie a home-cooked meal (Vegetable Beef Soup) for us to enjoy after she gets off of work. At 9:30 this morning, I went down to Mike's Meats and got eight pounds of beef bones. Jose quartered them for me to make it easier to handle, roast, cook, and extract the delicious nutrients from. You can see what I did with all those bones here. This post is about friendship, three friendships. While cooking this soup for Jessie, I couldn't resist the poetry of seeing an ancient recipe (tell me what's older than meat and vegetable soup) as a symbol of our very long journey as friends. 

In those early days we would write letters back and forth to each other (sending them in the mail). They read with the hilarity and sometimes, heavy drama of growing up, and I'm glad that I still have a few. 

Just like a good home-made meal, the more time and love you put into a thing, the richer and more nutrituous it becomes. 
We are some damn lucky women to have each other, have this history.

And now, Laura, you're getting married to your best friend. 

Thank you, Paul. 

On the last day of school, we got an opportunity to pick up some Copper River King Salmon from the dock in Whittier. Jessie and Adam drove down Friday night and brought back some serious fish for family and friends. Adam cleaned and filleted the kings in our backyard until almost 2am. Eventually we were working by the light of the furtive sun, and so it follows that we kept company in the land of the midnight salmon. We would wait until the afternoon to eat our King Salmon three ways. 

Brooding chickens are upon us. The girls are doing some hard time behind bars. 

These girls have been in their laying boxes for much of the week. Our egg production has gone from 5-6 a day to half that. Yesterday we attempted "the chicken shuffle" as a remedy. I was outside all day doing some spring cleaning and when a non-broody hen approached the egg box, I let her in and shooed off the broody girls. This worked for a time, but required constant attention. So this morning at 6am, Adam and I greeted the 29 degree pale-sunshine air with a plan, of sorts. After reading several other blogs about how to deal with this problem (Our go-to is the Chicken Chick, who has a fantastic blog), we decided to save the $300 that a rabbit hutch would cost and dug around in our shed to see what we could piece together. We found a dog kennel from when Wilson was a pup, some spare wood, and spare hardware cloth. 

Apparently, these brooding girls need to be eased out from their hormonal trance by separating them from the others and providing a boring, cool, light, and drafty. . . . what's the word. . . .prison. Thus, they are sentenced to a maximum security life for the next week or so until they stop growling. That's right, growling. They have gone from my sweet, sweetie-pie girls to nasty, growling, edgy crazies who have the single focus of hatching an egg. 

I saw the first bursts of spring hues in the Arizona desert this March. Arizonians tell me that this is nothing compared to the rich palette of colors that will paint the desert floor in April and May. But, I was astonished to watch the desert transform before my eyes from a seemingly monochromatic moonscape to a rich and dramatic beauty. This trip restored me in many, many ways. Thanks, Mom & Dad!

I liked playing with the light and crystal formations of these ice balloons. This was way back near the winter solstice. 

Ah. We have arrived at the best season. The Seuss like nature of this Fireweed makes me happy. The reaches of cotton and peddles curve around the cold air like fireworks in the July sky, but here I find you against the low-ground foliage, more permanent than the imitation, but still so ephemeral that I should not breathe. 

Well someone else in the neighborhood does. At sunset, we heard another Conch symphony that led into what I can only describe as a Conch Off. We aren't proud. 

In the last moments of fall we savored the final crunches of our CSA from Arctic Organics. 
Here we have a Butternut Squash Soup and Salad. 
Thank you, Erika, for the homemade napkins.

This summer was busy in the best possible way. Here is a look back at the glorious simplicity of an Alaskan summer. It's difficult to put words to and the pictures hardly suffice. As they say, you simply had to be there. 

Heather and Joe hosted a family/friends get together in Homer the weekend before they tied the knot. At some point I found myself at Captain Patty's restaurant on the spit, which has been my go-to stop for lunch for years. It's perfect to stop in for a table for one, to get a bowl of chowder, 6 oysters, and a glass of white wine. I brought my journal to take in the moment, writing a few words so that I can savor the scene months later. 

Amber Lake, the place my mom and dad call home, now, in Alaska. This place is vast, wild, and green in a way that I know no other place to be. The memories we talk about when we find ourselves at the cabin are of mosquitos, tarp tents, mud, grass, and wilderness. Today we can be on this minuscule 6 acre plot of land and stay dry, warm, and clean. However, a canoe trip around the lake is a quick reminder of the reaching, grasping, swallowing tendrils of the wild. 

Adam and I got some time to play golf this summer. Last year we managed to get three games in a day. Why you ask. I don't know. This year, Adam envisioned 4 games in a day. Why you ask. Because it can only be done in Alaska. We did it. We started at 7am and got off the course around 10:30pm. Three rounds on the Creek Course and one round on the Hill Course made for an epic day. Only in Alaska, never again. 

Also, we played with Laura and Shane when they came to town for Matt's and Kathy's retirement party. Their engagement golf round, if you will. 

From Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself"
A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child? . . . . . . I do not know what it is any more than he.

It's official, we been getting eggs for about 4 weeks. At first, I was in mild disbelief at the first egg. Actually, they had been laying for a few days before we realized what busy girls they are. Now we are getting about 4 eggs a day. Here they are eating up spent grains from Adam's ginger stout beer. 

Today we switched the girls to layer feed. It should be just a few more weeks before all our time and work will pay off. The chickens are happy in the back yard. 

It has been 7 weeks since we brought the chicks home. They are definitely a part of our life now. This time of the school year didn't allow for weekly updates, but I did document their growth along the way. They are officially chickens these days, at two months old. We are only about four or five months away from collecting eggs.

They rapidly outgrew the plastic tupperware, so we moved them into Olive's kiddie pool and put that in the garage. At this stage there was no way to anticipate the indescribable mess that would be created (I'll tell you more about this later). For now, look at how cute they were!

Logistics:
We added a roost, from an aspen tree outside. Also, we elevated the food trough by tying it to the hard cloth wall with wire (Erika's stroke of brilliance) because it was an extra chore to clean it out everyday. Once we got it off the floor, they didn't stand or poop on it as much, but they could still reach into it for grub. 

They grow at such a rapid rate, that every day they look bigger. At this stage they kind of looked like awkward teenagers. Their "furry" feet grew in, and they began practicing flight. Actually, we had to put a large piece of cardboard on top of the hard cloth wall because they were hopping, climbing, scurrying their way to the top. 

Logistics:
I was not prepared for the dust bowl era conditions that resulted from an open chicken coop in my garage. I am not exaggerating when I say this. Every single surface in our garage is coated with thick layer of sawdust. For me, this created a sense of urgency to get them outside as soon as possible. Another poultry unpleasantly is the smell of their poop. I can only take about two weeks worth of bedding-build-up. We added fresh pine to it every day, and after two weeks it became putrid. Consequently, it has Erika and I rethinking our plan for the bedding of the coop. We were originally going to go with the "deep litter" method, but are going to try the "sand" approach. It will require us to scoop it like kitty litter daily, but the odor is supposedly greatly reduced and that means more hygienic living quarters for our hens. 

Matt, Adam, and Erika built the coop while I was out of town for the weekend. The coop gives each bird 3 square feet of space. After I got back to town, Adam and I painted it up on a Monday after work. This weekend we will be finishing it up! I'm so excited to get the coop all done and the chickens outside!

Erika and I decided to give the chicks some outside exposure to prep them for moving to the coop. They did great and loved the grass. I cannot wait until this summer when they are a part of our backyard landscape. 

I keep thinking that I have to go and feed them, or water them, or change something but, no. They really are so easy breezy on day two. Also, we can already see their growth. It won't be long until they outgrow this temporary home. 

At night they stay in the garage, but today we put them on a book shelf in the house so that they could get the benefits of natural sunlight. Plus, it was a joy to sit in my chair and watch them while I was enjoying a book and tea. 

Don't tell anyone, but I think Adam really likes them too. 

An afternoon soirée found us at the Colorado River for a drink on the floating bar at Fox's. 

I love to cook with my mom when we are together. We slow down and smell, taste, and savor new ingredients. We always start with a cocktail. This one was inspired from www.countryliving.com. 

in the otherwise monochromatic landscape of white, stone, and peppery glacial slate blues.

Fall is the time of contemplation and distillation. As the smells and flavors of a season ripen into their fullest potential, we too are reminded of our own ripening--become more quintessentially ourselves with the passing of each year, and we learn to relish, to surrender, to play.