Dear strange, cloudy place
your narrow, crooked, slick streets
might have known my feet
But flowery words
don't remember that you like
both sugar and cream
Am on some serious allergy medicine today. Drove through the Chugach National Forest on the way home, and as usual marveled at the turquoise lakes, icing sugar mountains, and almost painfully beautiful spruces. Couldn't hear my husband and son's questions through the din of my clogged up ears. Seward is somewhere I wanted to call home. I got to walk down its rambling path along the ocean all by myself (son and husband were on adventure day-cruise - a four hour tour...the weather I guess did get rough, but no one got marooned with Gilligan and the Skipper), and I took the time to walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, drink coffee in my favorite little coffeeshop there and then walk, walk, walk, walk.
It was so beautiful as usual. So beautiful I almost felt like banging my head against one of the mossy rocks a few times just to shake myself out of stupor. Sea otters floated by with clams on their stomachs, float float float. I couldn't believe I was really seeing it. That's how I've been this whole time here in Alaska: I can't believe my eyes. I have been blessed to be here. We all have. But we're still going home.