artist in the arctic

My feet on cobblestone, Bamberg, Germany 2009

It is the fifth of April. Light is waxing on spring snow and sunlight has been getting caught in my eyelashes. When I left Fairbanks the last day of January, it was burning cold and still long with night. Touching down in the middle of March, the still (8pm) lit sky lead me home.

It is good to be here.

I am sitting on my steps with a sky holding a sun filtering through a bow of Black Spruce. Bird song, barking dogs and the random car can be heard, mostly though --it’s quiet. Spring winds have held court for the fatter part of the week. They remind me about bending and beginnings that stir up the snow.

I know I haven’t written in awhile. It started as how days fall when you travel , then grew into returning home with fresh eyes (that right there is the party favor of travel) and has evolved into an unplanned technology de-tox of sorts. With forty degrees and all this sunshine, it’s tough to be inside for long. Fairbanks is a beauty when she is on the edge of seasons.

I’ve got sudsy dishes in my sink and a day that’s winding down. Somewhere in the haul and heat of water, I slow down too. Doing dishes by hand is something I like to do and dry cabin living has brought me closer to it. Life is full lately and I feel happy for the opportunity to find pleasure in the simple things, like a silver rack that now holds clean dishes.

Dear reader, I send you easy Saturday mornings, a great sunglass find, birds clipping your corners, your version of the perfect cup of coffee, maypoles, and a spring that holds tulips and daffodils on your kitchen table *