Regular readers know that I am a person who likes to get out and do something outside every day, whether it is to ride my bike, walk, cross-country ski, canoe, or whatever. I have not canoed or cross-country skied since I shattered my shoulder and got an artificial one in June of 2008 and I have only ridden my bike twice since the snow settled in.
With a shoulder like this, I am just afraid to fall. Even so I had thought that this would be a good week to finally dig my skis back out and see what I could do with them.
But so far I haven't done it and right now I don't feel like I am going to.
I have not even been able to make myself take my usual walks. Up until yesterday, I had not taken a single walk since the one that I took in Barrow immediately after I learned of the death of Soundarya.
We have so few hours of daylight this time of year and the sun never does rise very high over the mountains, so after I returned from Barrow I thought that I would walk, bike ride or ski every day right at high noon, when the low sun is at its highest, to get the most out of it that I can.
But everyday, high noon has come and gone and I have been lethargic and have stayed inside.
Yesterday, I decided, I would finally go. It was time to pull myself out into the cold and go.
But high noon came, and high noon went and I did not leave this house.
Then, a little after 3:00 PM, I decided I had to break out and go.
Without even thinking about it, I put on a light jacket and stepped outside.
The sun had already set, but still, I was outside and the alpenglow was beautiful upon the Talkeetnas. It was time to walk.
One thing about Alaska that is different than in the mid and low latitudes is that even after the sun sets, twilight lingers for a long time. In India, when the sun goes down, it gets dark, just like that.
Here, the light lingers long past sunset.
Of course, compared to Barrow, our days right now in Wasilla are long and sunny, and a thought struck me about that.
As you know, I was in Barrow on November 18 when the sun rose and set at practically the same moment and then disappeared until late January. It was just a couple of days after that Anil died in the car crash that also took Nick Hill and then one more day before Sandy followed.
I think that perhaps for this season, I have no choice but to live anywhere but in the dim light of winter's dark day until the sun returns in late January.
It is after the sun rises again that the most bitterly cold weather sets in - but the spring always follows. The ice breaks open, the whales return and then soon it is summer.
This is what I have been telling myself.
I can't remember precisely when - more than a year ago, I am certain - but I came upon this dog at this same corner, Seldon and Tamar. The dog was right in the middle of traffic on very busy Seldon, not understanding, and drivers had to both dodge and hit their brakes to avoid striking it.
I did not think this dog's prospects to be very good - but here it is, still living in unleashed terror on the corner of Seldon and Tamar.
By the time I reached home, I was damn near frozen. I wondered what had gotten into me to take off with only a light jacket, no hat, no gloves. So I warmed the car up, climbed in and headed to Metro Cafe to get a hot cup.
I found Carmen, talking on the phone to Scot, who is going through the final stages of his radiation and chemo therapy and then it will just be a matter of waiting for a couple of months to learn if the treatment did the job it is supposed to do.
Scot was in his shop, where I had never been. Carmen handed me the phone, he told me how to get to the shop and so, after I had driven around long enough to finish my coffee and cinnamon roll and to hear some news, I stopped by.
Oh, my! I found Scot working on a once-scorched 1959 Corvette that he has been restoring for seven years... or was it nine...? I didn't take notes.
It is red and white and beautiful beyond belief. It filled me with love and longing just to look at it. I had left my camera in the car, but Scot said that was okay - he wants me to wait until he gets it done, until Carmen and Branson can ride in it, to photograph it.
So I will wait - but I will tell you right now, it is a thing of beauty.