Juneau: It’s a fine clear day, the mountains across the canal on Douglas are pink with sunrise.
It’s -16 with the windchill out there, people. My garbage can is overturned on the other side of the house. The top has gone to meet its maker, maybe out on Mt. Roberts. Birds huddle next to the Christmas lights in the trees outside. Bake them chicken eggs with shaved jamon serrano, a mix of taleggio and red hawk washed-rind cheese, and a bit of parsley and fresh pepper. Croissant on the side. That’ll save you!
It saved me. I’ve got more space than I need in this apartment, but less heat. The monitor says 46 degrees; the down button works, but not the up. It’s my second weekend back in Alaska after two years in Oakland, Calif. My toes have not yet forgiven me.
Still, we are adjusting. We — me and the cat. I got myself the requisite pair of Extra-Tufs; the kitten I got a cat. I’m slave-laboring for a newspaper up here, so I’ve hardly gotten to enjoy my new home or get to know the town. I’ve learned more about federal timber sales than the trail two blocks away from my house. Did you know the Forest Service’s first priority is to sell trees? I felt like such a naif …
