Black on White

Bald eagle high in a cottonwood tree on a bend of the Kenai River in Cooper Landing.  You almost always find eagles in these trees.

Black-billed magpie huddled in the snow on my deck rails.

And a close-up/  Note the blue on the wing.

He was checking out the bird feeder on the front deck.

Uh-Oh

This doesn't look good.

Could it be?

Runaway team?

End of the line?

Or something more nefarious?

Just as I thought.

No sign of a gang line, no traces, no brake.

Nothing.

It's been stripped clean.


Ah HA!

He traded it all in on snow machines.

Now what are the reindeer going to do?

Oh, nooooooo!  Say it ain't so!!!

Merry Christmas

 

On Dec. 24:

Blueberry pie for breakfast at my neighbors and the blueberries were from our property.

A cream cheese and black olive sandwich for lunch at home (and all the ingredients were from Costco).

Alaskan king crab for dinner at my other neighbors, with a grapefruit, avocado, jicama, lettuce, and cilantro salad.

And a yet another neighbor couple came by with their seven kids, gave me hugs, a bag of cookies, and serenaded me with "Silent Night."

Does it get any better than this?

Impossible.

♫ ♫ Please, Santa ♫ ♫

(I got the melody to “Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas” stuck in my head, and couldn’t remember the title or the original words, so I made up my own.)

Please, Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney,

I’m afraid that you will fall,

The pitch is steep, the snow so deep,

And the rooftop is so tall.

I’ll leave the side door open.

You’d best come in that way.

It’s closer to the Christmas tree,

And less liability.

Please Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney,

It’s a woodstove, don’t you know,

There’s a handle for to seal it well

And the pipe is very small.

There’s a catalytic converter

To burn the smoke away.

It’s not there to break your fall,

But because of EPA.

Please, Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney,

I’m afraid that you’ll get stuck.

The fire’s hot, the coals are deep,

And screams disturb my sleep.

I didn’t leave the milk out,

It’s best there in the fridge,

‘Cause the FDA would sue my butt

If warm milk made you sick.

                        Please, Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney,

 And leave your pipe at home

We all know your second hand smoke

Will shorten my life span.

Methodist Church

There are hand wipes in the entry,

I insist you use a few

So you don’t leave the germs that spread

That terrible swine flu.

Please, Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney

Before you’ve read my blog

It’s there I left my Christmas list

Of all the things I wish.

I put away the cookies

That were on the side table,

Lest the IRS says they’re fringe benefits

And makes them taxable.

Please, Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney

And about your reindeer team?

It’s the  methane gas that they all pass

And global warming.

Inn at Tern Lake

I’ll leave a cup of chocolate,

But it won’t stay hot too long

You can nuke it in the microwave,

If you like it just that way.

Please, Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney,

Just mail my gifts to me.

I’ll pick them up and spread them ‘round

My plastic Christmas tree.

Did Jeff Foxworthy really say this?

 This was re-posted on a friend's Facebook page.  I don't know if Jeff Foxworthy really wrote it or note, but it's so spot on, I thought I'd share it.  You know Jeff Foxworthy, don't you?  He of, "You might be a redneck if..."

What Jeff Foxworthy has to say about Alaskans:

 

If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance and he doesn't work there, you may live in Alaska.

If you've worn shorts and a parka at the same time, you may live in Alaska.

If you've had a lengthy telephone conversation with someone who dialed a wrong number, you may live in Alaska.

If you measure distance in hours, you may live in Alaska.

If you know several people who have hit a moose more than once, you may live in Alaska.

If you have switched from 'heat' to 'A/C' in the same day and back again, you may live in Alaska.  (Okay, this one I question.  I don't know anyone who has air conditioning.  We just open windows.)

If you can drive 75 mph through 2 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without flinching, you may live in Alaska.

If you install security lights on your house and garage, but leave both unlocked, you may live in Alaska.

If you carry jumpers in your car and your wife knows how to use them, you may live in Alaska.  (Along with a tow strap, emergency fusees, and blankets.)

If you design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit, you may live in Alaska.

If the speed limit on the highway is 55 mph -- you're going 80 and everybody is passing you, you may live in Alaska.

If driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow, you may live in Alaska.

If you know all 4 seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter and road construction, you may live in Alaska.

If you have more miles on your snow blower than your car, you may live in Alaska.

If you find 10 degrees 'a little chilly', you may live in Alaska.

If you actually understand these jokes, you definitely live in Alaska

Roadside Hazards

I had something I really needed wanted to do in Anchorage today, something that I required finishing and in the mail in time for Christmas. 


But, the electricity was still out from Tuesday mid-afternoon and I didn't want to leave the house unattended because it might cool off too much for that green and yellow (and red and pink and orange and blue and indigo and aqua and peach) dynamo I call Pablo.  So, when it was still out at 4 a.m., I decided I would stay home and keep feeding the woodstove.

Then, at ten after 11, the power came back on and I was out of the house and on my way to the big city by 11:30.

Sunshine at 11:30 on the shortest day of the year.  You can tell the sun doesn't get very high in the sky.  Tern Lake is in shadow because the sun doesn't get over top of the 4000 foot mountains.

The weather couldn't have been nicer--clear, sunny and about 20 degrees.  The road surface was sheer ice, but cold ice which isn't as slippery as warm ice. 

I haven't been in this direction since the last few storms hit was surprised that the snow banks on the highway shoulders were four feet high, but seemed about the same in Turnagain Pass, where it usually snows much more.

The gray line through the middle of the snowbank on the right is the top of the guardrail.  The highway guys use a snowblower to clear the road in this area, so the snowbank is mostly natural snowfall.

And driving down to saltwater at the bottom of the Pass, there's always this spectacular sight.  That's Twenty Mile Glacier in River in the far distance.  The water is Turnagain Arm (remember Capt Cook and William Bligh?).

Ah, but the real treasure was at Mile 105.  Twenty feet off the edge of the highway was this sight:

It's a Dall Sheep ram.  I think he's be considered a full curl if the near tip of his horn wasn't broken off.  Hard to say from this angle.  If I'm not mistaken, the tip has to reach the height of the eye to be considered a full curl.

I was told there's a natural salt lick right in this spot and this is why the sheep come down off the mountain.  I could see him licking something and thought I saw liquid.

The sheep are protected in this area, not subject to hunting.  They couldn't care less about the people who stop to watch and photograph them.

I got my chores done in town, got things in the mail, and called my neighbors to see if the power was  still on.  The answer was no.  It hadn't stayed on after I left for Anchorage.

Imagining a ticked off parrot at home, I dropped all the other errands on my list and headed south.  This is the way the story ends:  the house was at 68.5 degrees, which is where I usually keep it.  Pablo was angry about me being gone, but warm.  A peanut M&M got him over his mad.  He did require some extra cuddling, though.

Oh, What a Lovely Drive to Seward Today

 

Not much in the way of scenery, though.   Good thing I know the road.  

Got home just in time for the power to go out.  Here we go again.