Happy Autumn Equinox

Today is the Autumn Equinox. Half way between 24 hours of daylight and 24 hours of darkness. Well, in Fairbanks, that isn't entirely true. The sun sets on the summer solstice - it just stays light out. And the sun rises on the winter solstice - it just stays fairly dark.


We have lost four hours of day light since we arrived a month ago. I'm starting to feel nervous about the darkness. On the other hand, I have been waking up at 5:30 and heading out the door before 7:00, which I could NEVER do in NH. So maybe it won't be as bad as I fear. And hey, darkness = knitting curled up on the couch!

Happy Fall, everyone!

Hiking and Pareidolia

On Sunday, Lee and I set out to hike one of the "classic" hikes of Fairbanks - Angel Rocks. It is actually about an hour outside of Fairbanks, up Chena Hot Springs Rd. It was a perfect day for a hike, cool and sunny. We set off for the 3.5 mile hike walking through the birch forest trail that followed the Chena river. It smelled like the end of fall, when the leaves paper the ground and the air smells crisp and musty. It reminded me of playing in the woods behind my daycare provider, Dottie's, house, raking leaves into trails, turning the woods into our play house. (We even had an elevator!). The end of fall is a funny feeling, a strange combination of nostalgia and melancholy. I thought about that feeling at the beginning of our hike. It isn't a sad feeling, more of an in touch with the changing of the seasons feeling. It felt good to smell the same happy smells of my childhood.

As we turned away from the river and began to climb out of the forest, the "angel" rocks came into view. And that is when the fun began! Lee and I both love big rocks. He loves them because he loves to climb. I love them because they present an endless array of faces - both animal and human. I've been told that people who see animals and faces in things have a condition called Pareidolia. But Pareidolia is defined not just at seeing these aparitions, but as finding meaning in these sightings. I see faces and animals everywhere. They are in rocks and our stucko walls and in the grain of wood. I see them, yes. But they are not meaningful to me. I don't believe the spirit of a goat inhabits the wood whose grain looks like a goat. I just see said goat. So I'm not sure that what I experience is Pareidolia. Either way, I challenge you. Do you see what I see?

An old, grumpy man with a beard.

Profile of a Man

A snake's head coming out of the rock

An elephant with her ears up.

How did you do?

Qiviut Dreams

On Labor Day, Lee and I went to visit the Large Animal Research Station (called LARS) at UAF. There, they do research on Caribou, Reindeer, and Musk Ox. All amazing creatures and the tour/lecture they give about the animals was very informative and interesting. But my true interest is in the fleece shed each spring by the musk ox. This fleece, called qiviut (kiv-ee-ut), is one of the warmest fibers in nature. The Musk Ox grows a 7 - 8 inch thick undercoat of qiviut to survive the arctic winters (Fairbanks is too hot for the Musk Ox!). Then in the spring, it begins to shed this undercoat. It is combed off or collected and spun into heavenly lace-weight yarn.

Qiviut is light, fine, unbelievably soft and warm, and one of the most expensive yarns out there. At Inua Wool Shoppe in Fairbanks, a one ounce ball of qiviut is $90. You can buy a two ounce skein for the bargain price of $150. But at LARS, they also collect qiviut each spring and spin it in to yarn. A one ounce skein of 100% qiviut goes for the true bargain price of $60. For the last few days I have been trying to figure out how I can raise my own Musk Ox for qiviut. Doesn't seem to be a viable option. And I can't afford the spun yarn. So here's my new plan. LARS also sells un-spun fleece for $25 an ounce. Once I get good at spinning, I can buy the fleece and add to the thrill of working with this fiber by spinning it first, and then knitting with it. And for those of you who have been thinking, "Gee, I wonder what I'm going to get Kate for Christmas?," I have just the thing! Large Animal Research Station Qiviut

Alaska's Fall Foliage

It's Labor Day today, and in New England, family and friends are celebrating the end of summer outside in 72 degree weather. It is warm, but there is a hint of crispness in the air, the feeling that fall will arrive soon. Here in Alaska, however, fall has arrived. That crispness has been in the air for weeks. Today's high is 60, and at night it will be 40. We are wearing wool sweaters and occasionally a hat. But more striking, at the beginning of September, is the foliage. The leaves are changing and it even looks like fall... sort of.

Alaskan foliage in Denali National Park 9/5/10

The forests in Interior Alaska are different than in New England. Here, our Boreal Forests, called Taiga, are composed of stunted black spruce trees, somewhat more robust white spruce trees, hemlock, Sitka spruce, and a few species of deciduous trees, mostly in the birch and willow families. And as you New Englanders know, the birch and willow leaves turn yellow in the fall. So the foliage is changing to a bright yellow on a deep pine green backdrop. Because of the permafrost, large deciduous trees can't take root here, nor can they survive the exceptionally cold winters. The reds and oranges and browns of the sugar maples and oaks are not in the trees of Alaska's foliage.

But don't you fret! Those reds and oranges show up, instead, on the ground cover. The millions of berry bushes and other ground shrubs are changing into vibrant reds and oranges, with the twiggy trunks looking purple next to the leaves. It's quite stunning. And while it definitely looks different from my New England falls, it still feels like fall, and even a bit like home.

There's a moose in them there berry bushes!


The black bear got really close to Lee!

Gray Water Fiasco

Because we have no plumbing in our cabin, the dirty water from dishes and such is collected under the sink to be disposed of outside. It has been Lee's chore to dispose of this "gray water" when it is getting too full. Except yesterday morning, Lee took the car to have the windshield replaced, so I had the house to myself. I cleaned, scrubbed, washed dishes, cleaned out the fridge, and heard drip, drip, trickllllllle, drip. The event Lee had been dreading happened - the gray water bucket overflowed and was now spilling all over the cabinet below the sink and onto the floor. I had to skillfully tip the filled bucket into the other bucket and carry the water outside. Then I used 7 or 8 towels to sop up the mess. In the end, it wasn't as disastrous as I thought it would be, but it wasn't fun either. Moral of the story: check gray water before washing the dishes - a habit that must be developed before winter sets in and I can't hang the towels outside to dry!