End of Summer at the Cabin

We are winterizing the cabin now, putting wire cages around trees and shrubs to protect them from hungry moose and rabbits. The raspberries grew well considering they were eaten to the ground by moose last winter, damn them, but there were no berries for us this fall. The hardy roses are still trying to flower despite daytime temperatures in the 40's and freezing nights. Soon we'll be back to the dry rocky desert and I'll miss the color and life of my gardens.

Cabin and dogs, they'll miss the grass

Grewingk Glacier dressed in fresh snow

Caged rose safe from critters

Lilies blooming late

Climbing red rose 

Tree caged to stop moose from eating bark

Raspberry patch looking wild

Autumn

The leaves turn color, the wind blows and fall is over. Sometimes it only takes a few days. Time to put wire around trees and shrubs to protect them from winter moose and rabbit feeding while we're away.

Termination Dust

Fresh snow on the mountains after the latest round of storms. Winter is on its way and we are thinking about heading south with the birds. Waterfowl are staging for the migration. Today we saw a flock of cackling Canada geese hunkered down in a field.

The Endeavor is still in the deep water dock, weeks beyond the one week expected. It had to lower its legs during one storm. Fifty mph winds were threatening to topple it. The two or three tugs holding it were insufficient. The rig began to ram the dock. Considered an emergency, ADFG allowed its legs to be lowered to stabilize it. There is currently a law prohibiting the storage of jack-up rigs in Kachemak Bay, which means the legs are not allowed to be lowered to the substrate. The regulation was enacted in response to a situation a number of years ago where a rig got stuck in the mud of the bay and had to be blasted out. It caused quite a bit of environmental damage and the old timers who have been adamant about protecting Kachemak Bay didn't want it to ever happen again, so this rig's extended stay is becoming quite controversial.

Flame Painting

Bad weather continues. Gale force winds are expected tonight in our area and two to three inches more rain. This rain train (as someone called it) that is pummeling us is apparently a result of the loss of summer arctic sea ice weakening the jet stream so that the weather system remains stationary for an extended period of time. I hope something gives it a kick start out of here soon, but Accuweather shows more of the same for the next two weeks. Very glad we are not living near any of the rivers on the Kenai as they are already flooding and all this additional rain is bad news.

Anyway, being stuck inside has given me time to experiment with flame painting copper. I love the bright colors that develop when you use a hot flame just so. Below is a flame painted hammered leaf pendant on a braided copper wire chain with little turquoise bead accents that pick up the blues in the leaf very nicely.

This is another hanging goodymajig using found objects, flame painted copper scraps and an antique marble drop piece set on flame painted copper. The colors don't show up too brightly in the photo but they really flash in the sunshine.... when we actually get sunshine!

Lilies weather the storms

Still getting hammered by the weather. Flooding, from the Kenai Peninsula to Cordova, up to Talkeetna, and the Richardson Highway. Flooding like I have never seen up here. More to come through the weekend, too. The gorgeous lilies we planted this summer are blooming through the worst of it though, giving me  some cheer. Yellow, salmon and brilliant orange. A pink to open later this week. I love their brilliant colors!

Earlier this summer I tossed a mix of wildflower seeds out front to cut down on weeds taking over the area that was cleared during construction for the drains. They are finally coming into bloom with a riot of color. I wasn't liking the looks of it all until the colors started showing, now thinking I will just tame the area a bit next summer and make the bees happy with all these flowers again.

The Sandhill cranes have either taken off with the storm systems or are laying low until it's all over. We haven't seen them doing training flights since the rain began, but the Steller's Jays are back, peeking in the windows, looking for a handout. Noisy moochers. We only see them this time of year. As soon as I open the door to put down a few nuts they fly over and clear them out. They are fast and won't cooperate for a picture. Here's the best of several I tried taking through the kitchen window.

More storms

Two humungous storms with winds over 120 mph and rain up to ten inches in some places have hit southcentral in the last week. Another storm is on the way Tuesday night lasting through Thursday. Looks like we installed the French drains around the property just in time. So far everything is working as planned to redirect the water away from the house and yard. Unfortunately there was some degradation of the new slope from run-off before all the raspberries, wild roses, grass and wildflower seeds had a chance to really take root. If these storms continue it could get real bad.

We went for a beach walk today and were surprised to see how much the coastline has changed after the last storm. It coincided with a 20+ foot tide and the storm surge really hammered us. The picture below is our property. The dirt and clay under the leaning tree is totally washed out. There used to be a raised flat clay area where people sometimes camped that is totally gone now where Tag is standing. That tree is really hanging on but probably won't last the winter when these kinds of storms are normally expected.

More slope slumping further down the coast, below. There also used to be long tongues of clay from previous slumps stretching out to the beach that have been totally washed away with this storm. Even more amazing, a creek is gone! So much gravel and sand were washed in the creek was filled and all trace of it's path is gone. The water is dammed at the outlet to the beach now but I suppose eventually the creek will reestablish itself. The tides are going to be even higher, over 22 feet, during this next storm event! 

Is it a dog?

Have you seen this thing? It's a four-legged robot that looks freakily doglike. Military is developing it and seems that beyond serving as a pack robot it can interpret verbal and visual commands. Impressive the way it can maneuver through brush and over rough terrain, but it creeps me out.

Dogs at Work

I just learned about a program that uses high energy rescue dogs to conduct biological research. No, not research on the dogs themselves! The dogs conduct the research. They sniff out the scat of endangered species, from salamanders to elephants, that biologists use to learn more about them. It's the Conservation Canines of the Center for Conservation Biology at the University of Washington. Here is a link to a neat video explaining their grizzly bear research in Jasper National Park and showing the dogs at work.  Conservation Canines

This is a link to their website:  Center For Conservation Biology

This is a great program for the dogs, the scientists, and the animals they study.

Weird Weather

A major storm blew through southcentral this week. Anchorage was hammered by hurricane force winds topping 130 mph on the hillside. Thousands of homes have been without power for days. Trees all over the city were uprooted, lawns surrounding them looked like wrinkled green carpeting shoved to the side. We didn't have it nearly so bad in Homer. The weird thing is that these storms normally occur during winter. Hitting at this time of year the leaves in trees acted like sails to catch the wind, dragging them over roots and all.

Anyway, our unusually short summer (another Weather Weirding) appears to be over and I am feeling like Sam McGee. I love this poem...

The Cremation of Sam McGee

BY ROBERT W. SERVICE

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

      By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

      That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

      But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

      I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.

Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.

He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;

Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.

Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.

If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;

It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,

And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,

He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;

And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:

"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.

Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;

So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;

And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.

He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;

And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,

With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;

It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,

But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.

In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.

In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,

Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;

And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;

The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;

And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;

It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."

And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;

Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;

Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;

The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;

And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;

And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.

It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;

And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;

But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;

I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.

I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;

And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.

It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—

Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

      By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

      That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

      But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

      I cremated Sam McGee.

Decoration

Copper, beach rock, and turquoise chimes for the yard. (Blurry picture alert... sorry... wind is blowing like crazy today.)

Turquoise and silver pendants

Brass window thingy

Salmonballs

Salmonballs

When we have several whole salmon to clean Bob filets them then scrapes the meat off the bones. It's surprising how much good meat you would throw away with the bones otherwise. This is the perfect stuff to make burgers, patties or salmonballs. 

My food processor is in Arizona, so I use a knife to chop the meat into tiny bits, add an egg, panko and whatever flavoring stuff sounds good. (Depends on the intended use.) I had about a pound and a half of meat so made a big batch of balls, used half to prepare a spaghetti with salmonballs in white sauce one night; salmonballs with veggies in ginger sauce another. (Picture below on a bed of rice.) Delicious! 

Salmonballs and veggies in ginger sauce

Thought Bubble

Thinking about the jackup rig in the bay, drilling in Cook Inlet and Kenai, preparations for drilling in the Arctic Ocean, the drilling to start here up East End Road. Thinking about record high temperatures around the world, droughts, floods, fires, extreme weather events, melting glaciers, record ice loss in the arctic. Just thinking.

“We're not the radicals. We want a world a little bit like the one we were born into. The oil companies are the radical ones. They are willing to alter the chemical composition of the atmosphere and water to make more money.... they're trying for a world that will jeopardize the future of most living things.... This is our challenge for the years ahead. If we can break their power, then our planet has a future.” —Bill McKibben