I bike to Church, go on to Sunrise, see a four-wheeler through a pipe and am told a search is under way; Fat Boy's is gone, Sicily's is here

My modem went on the blink and ceased to blink, so, if I wanted to keep blogging, I had to take it back to GCI and trade it in for a new one. As I pulled out of the driveway to go and do so, I saw Kalib in the back of Caleb's truck. Caleb was nearby, keeping an eye on him.

After I swapped out the modem, I returned toward home along the edge of Wasilla Lake and shot a few blind frames. By "blind frames" I mean that I pointed my camera through the window and without looking in that direction myself, fired off a few frames, letting fate and serendipity choose the subjects and the composition.

Just a few weeks ago, Wasilla Lake was still coated in ice.

Now look at it. It has once again become:

"Wasilla Malibu."

I should do a series of studies of Wasilla Malibu throughout the summer - even though I don't expect to be here that much this summer. Still, I will shoot what studies I can, beginning with this one, which I shall title:

Wasilla Malibu Study #204: The red fire hydrant and the sunburnt boy.

Next I went to the Post Office. After I came out, I got into the car and started to drive away, but I saw the broader-faced of these two dogs. I braked to a stop, backed up, parked poorly, jumped out, scurried over and told the lady and the man kept by the canines that I would like to photograph the dog and then the other dog appeared and so I amended that to, "I would like to photograph your dogs."

So I did. I didn't learn much about the dogs, because, as I have already stated, I was parked poorly and needed to move my car before the wrong person came along, took offense, and shot me. I did learn that both dogs had just been groomed. They had been wearing heavy winter coats but now they were ready for summer.

I also learned their names, one was Sammy and the other was... the other was... the dog's name was...

Oh, good grief! I have forgotten!

This is terrible.

Not only that, I can't even remember which dog is Sammy and which is the other dog. 

But one of them is Sammy and whichever one he is, he is a mighty beautiful and fine looking dog and his temperament is pleasant.

Next I took a bike ride, my longest one so far this season. Here I am, headed down Church Road.

Here I am, about three or four miles further along, on Sunrise. A man and a boy pass by me on a fourwheeler and wave. I want to wave back, but worry that I might crash if I do because I am already pedaling and photographing and talking on my iPhone while surfing the web and to add one more element might just be too much.

So instead I nod my head and shout "hi!" hoping they can hear over the engine and wind noise.

Actually, I was not talking on my cell phone - or surfing the web. My iPhone was in my pocket. I just made that up to add a little bit of drama to the moment.

Our paths intersected again a little further down Sunrise, by the Mahoney Ranch, where the road has been torn up so that some new drainage pipes can be dropped in beneath it.

Turns out it was Dustin and his son. Dustin grew up just up the road. We talked a bit and he spoke about how wonderful it was to grow up here and I commented that he must have seen a lot of change and development and it must frustrate him a bit and he said, oh yeah, he had witnessed incredible growth and change and it was frustrating.

I was nodding away in awe at all the change he must have witnessed growing up here his whole life, especially considering all the change I had seen even though I grew up elsewhere and have only lived here a short time when suddenly it struck me that my short time living in Wasilla is getting close to 30 years and Dustin looks pretty young so I have probably been here longer than he has and have seen even more change.

As we were talking, a car stopped and a young Mahoney got out and then prepared to ride away on a bike. He said the people who had just dropped him off had told him that a two year-old child had wandered off and got lost at the s-curve, maybe a bit over a mile up the road. A search was underway and he was going to go help.

One never wants to hear or believe such news, but these things happen. It puzzled me a bit, though, because I had already pedaled through the s-curve and had seen no one. I knew that if a search had been going on there, there would have been people and emergency vehicles at that curve.

Maybe I had pedaled through before the search began. I did not think so, though. I thought perhaps he had received some inaccurate information. I hoped so.

The young man pedaled away.

I then took a picture of Dustin and his son through the new culvert pipe.

Then they turned around and headed off. I resituated myself on my bike and pedaled off in the same direction. I soon realized that they were going pretty slow and it would be an easy thing to catch them and then shoot a few frames as I pedaled alongside them.

So that is what I did. The Mahoney horses were in the field on the other side and I had planned to shoot a few pictures of them on the way back, but by the time I had shot my final frame of Dustin and son, I had passed the horses.

At that point, all I could think about was the story about the two-year old. I did not want it to be true. I did not think it was true. But I had to find out. If it was true, then I would have to do my part to help.

I could not leave with a two-year old child wandering in the woods, or being downstream in the frigid waters of the Little Su.

I pedaled on, toward the s-curve. Soon the Mahoney kid came into view, returning home. He said there was no one at the s-curve, no sign of any kind of search at all. The information he received must have been bad, he said.

Relieved, I pedaled on. As I reached the s-curve, an airplane passed overhead.

In time, I reached Seldon, which not so long ago became the Mat-Su Veterans Highway. It is hard to think of Seldon Street being considered a highway, but if it is a highway, then it is appropriate to name it for the veterans.

I took this picture right by Fat Boy's pizza. Unfortunately, Fat Boy's has gone out of business. It was said that he would reopen in a busier part of town in May, but he did not. I hope he yet does.

Now, there was a sign in the window that said, "Abby's Home Cooking, opening soon."

I wonder if Abby will serve breakfast? What will her hash browns be like?

Will she steal me away from the Family Restuarants? It would be an easy and good thing to leave the car behind and get on my bike in the morning and peddle the mile-and-a-half to Cora's.

When I got home, the house was chaotic. Jobe and Kalib were having a blast. It was after 7:00 PM. All the dishes were dirty, no one wanted to cook and dirty more dishes and anyway I now had pizza locked into my brain. So I ordered pizza from Sicily's, the place on the Parks Highway just past Church Road that I only discovered while driving home from Fairbanks May 15, following the honoring of Katie John.

They deliver, but the lady on the phone said it would take 45 to 55 minutes but the pizza would be ready in 15, if I were to pick it up.

So I picked it up. On the way home, I saw this dog.

I am very sad to have lost Fat Boy's, but glad to have discovered Sicily's.

It was very good pizza.

I ate too much, though, and then, to compensate, I had watermelon and cantaloupe afterwards.

After the gorge, I found Kalib and Caleb playing in the guest room. "Uncle!" Kalib would say. "Nephew!" Caleb would answer. Then they would reach out their hands and touch.

Jobe finished the day with some milk and then went to bed. Just as he is no longer sleeping in his cradle board, he no longer dines on mother's milk. 

Lavina had two goals in mind when she breast fed Jobe for over a year - the first was to provide him the healthiest diet possible, the second to give Jake and her a natural form of birth control.

It will soon be evident just how successful that part of the plan proved to be.

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Moon over bare trees; picnic table in the nightwind; Kivgiq fans - please! Don't give up on me! I am plugging away!

By necessity, I must keep this blog exceedingly brief today. Therefore, I present to you the waxing new moon, as it appeared on my walk yesterday evening. I took this picture a bit after 7:00 PM, as lingering daylight slowly faded. 

Yes, although we will not reach the equinox for another 11 days, the season of darkness is over. Until the equinox, our days may still technically be shorter than they are for those of you live in the mid and lower latitudes, but, because of our long, lingering periods of dawn and twilight, they already feel longer.

On Tuesday, in response to the picture of this table that I posted, Fanshaw left this comment:

I'm no stranger to frozen lakes but I am mystified by the power poles. Why? How?

I gave Fanshaw a brief, deceptive, answer, but promised to go back at night and take a picture to illustrate the purpose.

I almost changed my mind, because, once again, the wind was howling and so I did not expect there to be any activity on the lake.

Still, a promise is a promise, so I drove down and parked my car (the headlights that you see glaring off the ice to the left) got out, and struggled off toward the table. This picture proved to be a huge challenge to take, because the wind was so damn strong I could hardly make any forward progress against it. I would push my way forward two or three steps and then it would push me backwards and I would have to start again.

And it was cold in that wind. It was damn cold. I pulled my hood up to give my ears a little more protection but the wind blasted into that hood, caused it to billow up like a big, round sail, practically lifted me off the ice and sent me twice as far backwards as I had already progressed.

I didn't give up, though, and finally I made it to the table.

Now it ought to be clear why there are power poles here. Lots of people like to purhase pizzas from the Pizza Hut just beyond and then sit at this table and eat the pizza while they watch figure skaters slide, twirl and dance across the ice as hockey players smash each other in the face.

The journey back to the car was much swifter than the one from, because that wind treated me just like I was a sail and sent me shooting across the ice at blinding speed.

It was kind of scary, though, because you can see that the ice is not smooth but rippled and I feared I might fall down and damage my titanium shoulder.

I am most grateful to have this titanium shoulder, but I liked my real one a lot better.

Now - for you fans of Kivgiq who are about to give up on me - don't! I am slowly inching forward. Lots to try to figure out, and my time keeps going off in unexpected divergent directions.

Anyway, Kivgiq fans, just to assure you that I am sticking with it, I am posting this picture of some of you, yourselves, the Kivgiq fans, laughing as Vernon Elavgak of the Barrow Dancers becomes a pink-haired lady and does a funny dance during their amazing and beautiful Kalukaq performance.

Next week - I expect it to happen next week. Don't expect to see it all, though. I've got way more than I can ever show, even if I greatly overdo it blog style.

(Although I did this post in the morning, I set it to post in the afternoon in order to give yesterday's post, which went up late, a little more time at the top of the pile.)

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Wasilla on a 78 degree scorcher: I go biking with Shadow Me, Tony and Taiga prepare for the hunt; relief from the heat at Wasilla Malibu

Yesterday, I had speculated that I would not post at all today, as people go out to play on summer Saturday's, my readership goes way down, I'm still jet-lagged from and getting over the sickness that struck me down in wonderful Greenland and maybe I should just relax and play today myself.

In fact, I decided that was exactly what I would do - not blog today.

But then it seemed silly to just leave things sitting where they were, when we had all baked at 78 degrees in Wasilla and I could easily put up a very quick and easy post to tell you so.

So here is Shadow Me, biking at 78 degrees in Wasilla. Shadow Me never sweats, but I do - and I did.

Usually when I bike, I try to take all my pictures as I pedal past the subject. But when I saw Tony and his new pup, I had to stop. Tony is a hunter and he was training the pup how to be a hunting dog. The pup is named Taiga, because that is where they are going to go hunting - on the taiga.

Tony is a good neighbor, by the way. A very good neighbor. And he is an author - like me, but his subject matter is different. Related, but different.

His dogs are always good dogs.

I have never known Tony to have a bad dog.

I liked Barney the best.

Barney grew old and died, as dogs do with alarming frequency.

As we all do, unless we die young.

I miss Barney.

As I pedaled down Church Road toward the Little Susistna River, I saw a man working in his yard, where pretty flowers bloomed.

Such is summer life in the Great, White, Eternally-Frozen North.

Here we are, passing by Wasilla Lake's Wasilla Malibu Beach, Margie driving, me in the passenger seat, kids cooling off in the water.

Yesterday, Lisa read the part in my blog where I speculated that perhaps today I might want to play myself. She called. She should be here soon. Then we will go out into the country and play.

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A pushing boy, a walking man, a mountain in alpenglow; the lovely Sujitha of Bangalore, who so badly wants to come to Wasilla

This morning, as I walked, I saw this little kid pushing his pedal-powered four-wheeler up his driveway.

And in the early evening, I saw this man walking past Wasilla Lake. In just three months or so, there could be young women in bikinis lounging about on that beach just to his right.

I'll bet some of you looked at this picture and didn't even know there was a beach there, or a lake.

Here I am, stopped at a red light on the corner of the Parks and Palmer-Wasilla highways, looking back at Pioneer Peak through my driver's door rearview mirror.

My niece, Sujitha, has been in this blog before and I am certain that she will be here again. She is a regular reader and every now and then she leaves a comment. She did yesterday, and she badly wants to come to Wasilla. She wants to meet Kalib, she wants to meet Margie.

She wants to meet all of her Alaska family. So far, she has met Melanie and she has met me.

I took these pictures, along with one of her and her true love, Manu, the day after the wedding of her sister, my special friend Soundarya, to Anil. In my 2009 review of May, I posted the one of Sujitha and Manu, but I haven't posted these.

Until now.

Sujitha, we all want you to come to Wasilla. So hurry up. 

Sooner or later, we want your whole family to come.

Here she is, with her grandfather, Natarajan. I took these photos in the Bangalore living room of Murthy and Vasanthi, the parents of Vivek, who married Khena, the daughter of my little sister and made us all family.

Here's Sujitha in that same living room nearly two years earlier, taking part in a women's ceremony for the Lakshmi, the Goddess of Wealth and Beauty. That's Vasanthi holding the flame and my good niece Vidya, who loves animals, behind.

Sujitha.

I have photographed but the tiniest hint of the magnificent nation of India, yet, I have so many images that I have never even had a chance to take even one look at myself, and I know there is some good material in there.

I still hope that in the future I will somehow find the time to go through, do an edit, and put up a whole bunch of posts.

If I do, I will mix it all up with Wasilla, just like I did here.

Moose poops on the run, Tequilla acts angry, I find three moose and the lakes finally freeze over

I set out on my walk a bit before noon and soon came upon this moose poop, scattered down the road. All I could conclude is that the moose who dropped these dozens of nuggets was running and pooping simultaneously. Why? A dog? Naughty children, throwing rocks?

Or was the moose just in a hurry to get somewhere and couldn't wait?

Maybe it was this dog - Tequilla. I don't think so. Tequilla lives too far away from where the moose poop was spread down the road. True, I walked the distance easy enough and she could have, too, but I doubt that she did.

On the upper marsh, I found this puddle frozen into a deep gouge left by someone on a four-wheeler.

I descended into the lower marsh, where I found a momma moose and her two yearling calves. Was it one of them who had ran, pooping, down the road?

Finally - Wasilla Lake has frozen over! Now, all we need is snow. On the other hand, the ice skaters will probably be glad if it doesn't snow for awhile. There are places near here where an ice-skater can go for miles and miles and miles, between freeze-up and the first snow.

I just heard the Anchorage forecast on the radio: zero to ten degrees (F) tonight, depending where in town one is. Tomorrow, even though it has taken so long to cool off this year, a warm front will move in already. El Niño. That's probably why. Temperatures will rise into the 30's and bring rain or snow, or snow and rain mixed.

During a cold snap, we tend to be markedly cooler out here than in Anchorage - just as we are hotter during a heat wave. I hope there is no rain, but only snow.

I did not go around to check all of the many lakes in this area, but, if Wasilla Lake froze, then you can be reasonably certain that all the lakes did.

Just in case you are wondering, I was on my coffee break here. Margie stayed home to watch "Countdown" and had me drop a couple of bill payments off and that is why I came into this part of town.

Closing view of Wasilla Lake, finally frozen over, at the beach I call "Wasilla Malibu" in honor of the bikini-clad gals who gather here in the summer to taunt the guys who want them.