The Fruits of My Labor

Last summer I spent a lot or time and energy cutting, splitting, and stacking firewood.  I am now enjoying the fruits of that labor as three sticks of split firewood in the wood stove warms me and my home.

I am surrounded by mountains here in this valley.   When the earth tips on its axis and brings change to the seasons, the mountain to the south of me slowly becomes too high for the sun to peek over it.  The most notable period of shade occurs around 5 o'clock in the afternoon, and hence I call it the Five O'clock Shadow.

Swans linger until freeze up as the mountain on the right casts its shadow on the valley.

Then I know that the long warm days of summer are almost spent and that winter will soon be here.   The shadow soon becomes complete, running the length of the whole ridge line that is called Wrong Mountain.

Snow clouds gather to drop the first snow of the season, Oct. 16, a mere 3 inches.

From late October through Valentine's Day, no direct sunlight hits the valley.   That doesn't mean it's dark or even twilight.   When the sky is clear for the sun to shine on the snow-covered mountain to the north, there's quite the reflection of light.

A female merganser paddles around in open water as ice encroaches.

Late season fishermen enjoy temperatures just above freezing Saturday on the Kenai River.

Bald eagles hang around the headwaters of Tern Lake, feasting on spawning salmon.

Trumpeter swans linger along the snow-covered bank of Kenai Lake.   Some swans  migrate south, while others stay in the river all winter.

Hoar frost clings to dried grass.

Watching snow creep farther and farther down the mountains.

Valentine's Day brings hints of spring and it's fun watching the sun gaining ever more ground on the shadows each day.


And then, one wondrous day, the migrating swans and other waterfowl return to breed and raise their young.

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Red necked grebe

Greater scaup

Babies!

Travels with Pablo: The Question of His Immigration Status

Many, many years ago (1972), in a land far, far south of Alaska, a family traveling that country in their pickup/camper purchased a little green parrot from a street vendor.  When their vacationing was over, they turned their truck north and eventually arrived at the U.S. border.

After the usual questions to the driver, the border agent opened the door to the camper.   Whether or not he saw the parrot is known only to that agent.   Certainly he saw the three beautiful young girls—a redhead, a brunette, and a blonde— looking at him with doe eyes and perhaps that is where his gaze stopped.   The truck continued north to Alaska with the three girls and their baby parrot, which they named Pablo.

 

This photo of Pablo was taken a couple years ago.   I don't have any baby pixs of him.

The import from Mexico and countries south of there of many species of parrots, including the Mexican Double Yellow Headed Green Amazon, has been banned for many years, though Pablo seems to pre-date those conservation efforts.

As for his immigration status, well, that quandary is behind us now.  In fact, I firmly believe the question became moot when President Ronald Regan granted him citizenship status through amnesty in 1986.   (Well, along with 3.2 other illegal aliens.)

A Pablo Story: The Question of His Immigration Status

Many, many years ago (1972), in a land far, far south of Alaska, a family traveling that country in their pickup/camper purchased a little green parrot from a street vendor.  When their vacationing was over, they turned their truck north and eventually arrived at the U.S. border.

After the usual questions to the driver, the border agent opened the door to the camper.   Whether or not he saw the parrot is known only to that agent.   Certainly he saw the three beautiful young girls—a redhead, a brunette, and a blonde— looking at him with doe eyes and perhaps that is where his gaze stopped.   The truck continued north to Alaska with the three girls and their baby parrot, which they named Pablo.

 

This photo of Pablo was taken a couple years ago.   I don't have any baby pixs of him.

The import of many species of parrots, including the Mexican Double Yellow Headed Green Amazon, from Mexico and countries south of there has been banned for many years, though Pablo seems to pre-date those conservation efforts.

As for his immigration status, well, that quandary is behind us now.  In fact, I firmly believe the question became moot when President Ronald Regan granted him citizenship status through amnesty in 1986. 

  (Well, along with 3.2 other illegal aliens.)

Late Autumn in Turnagain Pass

A thousand feet above the silty waters of Turnagain Arm, a passage through the mountains is called by the same name.

Ablaze with wild flowers in the summer months, the pass is now quieter.   Most of the tourists have left, though Rvs with Alaska license plates are still around.

When you're a spruce tree in Turnagain Pass, you're pretty special.

I was in the pass Sunday afternoon for what is most likely my last day of picking up litter for this season.

In the Silvertip section near Turnagain Pass.

Today, Sunday, a storm rolled in slowly, bringing the season's first snow.

That lone spruce tree with a few of its kind and a bunch of hemlocks.

Low on the horizon, the late autumn sun casts shadows in the mountains near Johnson Pass.

Hoar frost covers roadside grass.

Loving' Those Litterers

Sometimes, I just love people who litter.....

....plus  a quarter.     And, in a frequently used pullout, no less.

Last Light at Tern Lake

We are losing daylight hours quickly here in the north.   It seems like yesterday I mentioned that I didn't like darkness at 9:30 P.M.   Now, it's dark by 8 P.M.

During the afternoon, that "five o'clock shadow throws the valley into shade until the sun rounds the south mountain and gives us an hour or so of  that wonderful evening light.

I was at Tern Lake this evening when the sun, low on the horizon, began to disappear for the night behind another mountain and snapped this photo of a Trumpeter swan moments before it was cast into shade.