May Vacay . . .

6/14/2023

After spending the last two months vacationing flying to Montana and California, driving to Arizona and working on my property here in Alaska, I’m settled in the Weather Station looking out onto a wet, grey day disseminating observations for expected air traffic. I’ve a longer than usual work assignment this time out; three months. But, I’ve another two months vacation waiting at the other end . . . a nice incentive.

One of the happy highlights during my time off this Spring was my visit with my oldest child. As there are 3800 miles distancing us as well as two very different work schedules, regular visits are not possible. So, when we are able to say a hello, it is a special time.

Though my son worked during my visit, we spent the evening hours catching up on one another’s lives. We shared meals and watched shows and puttered about at small domestic tasks and worked together in his yard. His beautiful 1910 stucco, brick and terra cotta tile home is graced with pomegranate, lemon and fig trees. Red flowering hibiscus bushes sit at the entrance to his house and palm trees shimmer and sway in the California breezes. Rosemary and sage and rose shrubs add a heavenly fragrance as well as a gorgeous aesthetic to his landscape.

On the weekend, we strolled through the Los Angelas County Fair. It was a bit surreal walking through a metal detector that ensured we were not carrying weapons. We checked out the car show and watched as the tram took folks from one end of the fair to the other so they didn’t have to walk its length and breadth. Unlike Alaska, there is not a designated beer garden, so peeps walked the grounds with drinks in hand. Food grilled and smoked in the hot sun, exhibits displayed all manner of talents and people . . . were everywhere.

We also attended a Renaissance Fair. While walking up to pay for our admission, a gentleman approached and kindly offered us his two extra tickets. Grateful, we accepted and followed him and his family through the gate entrance. The costumery was amazing - I stared at everyone, old English was spoken, Bar Maids enticed from their ‘pubs’, Washer women cooled the crowd throwing water onto passerby, audiences laughed at entertainers and a pianist played away sitting protected from the sun under her umbrella. Craftsmen sold wares that lent to the medieval atmosphere.

It is always sad to say goodbye. But I am most grateful for the time I spent with my son.

In Montana, I drove from Missoula to Seeley for a barbecue with my little sister. I played darts and pool with my niece and nephew. I visited with other family members and I spent most of my time with my mom whose health is failing.

In Arizona, the Grand Canyon amazed and longtime friends cheered, the temperatures blazed and the sun burned my Alaska lily-white skin.

At home, I attended an ex-in-laws wedding and posed for family pictures with the ex-clan members. I hugged my daughters and grands, visited kindly friends and worked on my property. I met with my architect and excitedly designed my future home. And I took long drives and I ordered coffees and I ate out as often as possible before flying into remote Alaska where there are no such amenities - at all.

I’ll spend my time, over my three month tenure here in the wilderness, planning for my next two months off. One of my sons will attempt a visit, I’m contemplating invitations I received to fly to Hawaii, my youngest daughter turns 40 during this time and I graduate into the 60s season of life. So, I am envisioning something grandiose, something bold to celebrate this exciting new phase.

Working in isolation during my summer and missing all the life back home, is not exactly my ideal. But when I count my blessings, which truly are many, I am able to put my hands to the hard tasks. With a thankful heart, I see with greater clarity that my life is good, even when sequestered amidst mountains and bears.