re-cap of my travels, for those following along

i wake up to a beautiful scene. unzipping the tent that's set up on the second floor of this house, i feel i'm play camping, except this is real, this entire life is so bitingly real. and besides, i've grown accustomed to living in a tent. there is something very comforting about such simple accommadations. the small space a sanctuary from the outside world, small enough to seem inconsequential to most passerby, except for the inhabitant who knows that this is the entirety of the little corner of space she requires. and so, i awake in a tent situated by windows that face El Capitan cove. i stretch out my short body and see a fog caught in the middle of sleeping and waking. it, too, is stretching it's slightly bigger body over this cove. the sunlight is orange as it tends to be when in it first spills over the rounded edge of the earth, the light all new and potent, not yet diffused in the atmosphere. i take the scene in, the little boats lodge themselves down in the corner on a placid, reflective water, furry, bristly pines jut out vertically and meet the horizontal fog to frame this work. i inhale. how lovely. how very lucky i am to be in alaska again.

i was just in portland, Oregon and before that i spent some time in the bay area of California. it's been a strange progression from Virginia to here. in Virginia i became comfortable with the speed of the southern life, with the friendly conversations and the slow step. then off to California where things were faster and bigger and "better". luckily i was staying just outside the metropolis of San Francisco, otherwise i would have probably become so deaf and blind, i'd scarcely be able to fumble around in quiet hushes of the woods. i saw all sorts of people in the city. in fact, one could even say, i was becoming an expert at watching people, so, so, so many people in one place and so different, yet so similar. onto berkeley and a different pace, still a city but with a friend who equally enjoyed sitting on benches watching life zoom by. on a train 17 hours north along the coast of California and Oregon. Portland and shopping late into the evening. my first brush with IKEA the swedish furniture company. showrooms and feeling lost, or more accurately, disconnected from my life. too much business, too much impressions and hopeful illusions of permanence. the closing of doors and putting together of beds and tables. yet my writing flourished here, thanks in great part to a lovely porch. good coffee and a very different and cool vibe. and finally here. float planes and good food. family and comfort. waiting for the poop to burn, picking snap peas, canning halibut. then rolling a rock up hill and making a muddy mess in the front yard. cursing the rock, pleading with the rock, cursing again, then retiring for a tub bath.

my life seems so unreal sometimes. i've seen so many things and experienced so many things. i can only feel very fortunate and thankful to all those who have taken me in, spent time with me, talked with me, in essence, shared their lives with me. it has been truly an awesome trip.