Since my last entry over a year ago Matt and I have given birth to a son and just recently moved to Juneau. Both have renewed my interest and commitment to updating our blog. Time to write is even harder to find now with darling little Beckett here, but even more important to me. Things change so fast, I want to get it down before I forget it all!
Juneau became a possibility for us when Matt found a job down here that he was very excited about. The opportunity became an offer, and we jumped at the chance to join this unique community. He is now working with traffic safety for the state.
It's round and red, as you can see. I'm super excited to make use of the green house and raised beds come spring. I'm going to grow at least 7 varieties of heirloom carrots! The past two growing seasons have taught me to grow what's suited to the climate here, instead of my hairbrained attempts at growing melons and cucumbers despite the short, mild summers.
The weather is more mild here than in Anchorage, so we were very excited to be able to take Beckett for his very first hike when the temperature went all the way up to a balmy 34 degrees this past weekend. We hit the Rainforest Trails with a bundled baby and Jack in tow, and I was jumping out of my boots with exhilaration. I couldn't wait to show Beck the outdoors.
When he was still inside me, I started a list in my head of all the things I wanted to show him. Alpenglow, bears, and berry picking in the fall, cake, his daddy, freezing rain, green: all the shades from blades of grass to new leaves to spruce trees, hoarfrost, ice on the inlet . . . I think nature's beauty is one of the best parts of our time here, and I've been so eager to share that with Beck. So there I was, with a snow-covered spruce forest right in front of me, and my little guy all bundled up and ready to see it all.
We tromped right in to the towering trees, and despite my huge boots our footfalls were dampened by snow covered pine needles. It's been years since I felt how soft a footstep can be in a forest in winter, but the familiar sound brought me right back to my childhood in the mountains of Boulder, Co. The forest here is dense, and it was already 3:00 and the light was fading. We let the hushed dimness wash over us. Snow rested on the outstretched branches, and I whispered to Beck that I was going to do my best to be quiet and just let him take it all in.
The trail wound through the woods for a short ways, and soon I could see water beyond the dark lines of the trunks. A smile lit my face as I realized how close I now live to the ocean. We broke through the trees to a stunning view of the channel. White snow ran right up to the tide line on the black rock beach. Dark spruce trees, snow outlining their edges, textured the islands and mountains across the calm water. I got a little choked up right there standing amidst all that beauty, because I'm still, and will always be, an emotional banana. This is what Beckett is going to grow up seeing.
