A journalist observes life in the far north.
I saw the black helicopters. They exist. And I don’t mean in that paranoid, Oh my God the government is watching me sort of way. I saw them on the way home from the mountains yesterday. There were two of them. Black as night. Flying over the mountains. I saw a hundred bunnies too. White, black, brown and calico (sort of), they were scattered in someone’s yard near Delta Junction, looking almost paralyzed. They were probably eating, Alec said. If we didn’t have dogs, I’d put some bunnie food out in our yard and see what happens. My favorite part of the drive was seeing the burned forest. I love the stark, bare, dead trees that go on for miles. It would make the perfect backdrop for a Vanity Fair cover shoot.
The cabin was lovely. We ate big breakfasts of meat, eggs and toast and I lied around reading the New Yorker while Alec went on marathon, 5-hour snowmachine rides. Lots of kids came to visit. I brought down two movies and the instructions for my new cell phone and ignored it all, although I regretted not bringing down material to cut squares for the quilt.
We had planned to stop at the Buffalo Diner on the way home, but we didn’t want to wake Lucky so dinner last night consisted of cheese popcorn, four Nutter-Butters, a Reece’s peanut butter cup and me promising myself to start eating healthy after that. I am doing OK so far today. I drank three cups of coffee and ate a bowl of Cheerios. Not too bad considering I still have cake left over from my birthday.
The cabin settlement down below.