A journalist observes life in the far north.
I wake, look outside and see snow falling every morning for days now. Winter won’t release its grasp. Spring was putting up a good fight about 10 days ago but fizzled by midweek last week. I’m building fires again.
On the other side of the planet, Alec reports on his blog similar weather with snow at Base Camp. Vicious winds up high have pinned them down at 17,000 feet. On the phone, he sounds a little bored, and maybe lonely, saying the young people on the expedition pass the time partying into the wee hours. He is hanging out with a European plumber about his own age, he said.
I am told a Sherpa was killed by an avalanche, but I haven’t brought myself to look at the story yet. This is probably the best source for the facts. The Sherpa had a wife and children, Alec said.
Work has taken up most of my time, although I am home today nursing Lucky through a bad teething spell. I admit to liking her clinginess. Go-go-go is her typical demeanor.
Despite the cool-down, I believe all of the major rivers in the Interior have broken up. The tress are budding. I swapped out my snow tires, and I have an appointment to have my toes polished so I can wear sandals.
I planted some seeds in containers indoors and little sprouts are coming up. I am starting to make summer plans.