Just a few days after getting home, Rick was back at work full time. I would have been angrier, but I knew he had leave coming up after he finished his reintegration. It was also good because while our marriage is pretty good, reacclimating to each other can be challenging. It takes a couple weeks to get used to having another adult in your dance space and learning to work together again.
Sometimes it helps just to get out of the house. Despite the omnipresent rain, we took Rick to Salcha for his first ice cream from the Knotty Shop.
Rick took out some of his restless energy by working out. We started walking together. He also dragged me and a couple of the older girls into a couple of hikes on Birch Hill. The first hike was only four miles and we started at the base of the hill. The next time we started at our house and made it all the way to the communication towers on the top and then home again for a total of ten miles. Elevation and all, we did it in about three hours. I was surprised at how good it felt. I was more surprised that I didn't die.
We managed to take advantage of the weekends. Rick made a project out of setting up a proper fire pit, so of course we had to break it in with a fire, marshmallows, and combatives lessons.
In preparation for the planned caribou hunt, Rick took Brenna and me out to Murphy Dome. The goal was to get Bren comfortable moving over tundra with a weapon. If we saw some hares or grouse, all the better. There was nothing out there but us, but it was still a nice hike. I always love walking on the lichen and sinking three to four inches in. It's pretty freaking cool. The ripe blueberries that we found on the way back to the truck were a delicious treat.
I also was lucky enough to go kayaking with friends several times. The longest trip was a group float with some friends from Pioneer Park to the Pump House. This is a favorite local float with the added enticement of a good dinner at one of the prime restaurants in Fairbanks. It was a gorgeous and sunny, and with good company and high water...well, I couldn't ask for a better day.
Berries have been a sweet spot this summer. On hikes we found handfuls of blueberries and cranberries. We had strawberries growing in cans on the porch, and little tart wild strawberries scattered in the grass. The tree line behind our house is full of raspberries and rose hips, and the girls ate their way through them. I managed to convince them to stop eating long enough to gather berries so I could make a pie.
I didn't share.
Golden Days were kind of a bust this year between rain and Covid, but the powers that be still allowed some events to occur. One of them was the Rubber Duckie Race. I don't particularly care about the race, I just like to see the Duck Dump. There's something very wholesome about pouring 8,000 rubber ducks into a river. We watched the dump in the rain and then went to church.
About an hour south of Delta Junction is Donnelly Training Area, part of Fort Greeley and a place where soldiers go to play in the woods. It's also a popular spot to go camping. My friend invited us to crash her family camping trip and we were happy to oblige. For once the rain held off, but we wound up trading the rain for wind. I spent most of the time talking smack, huddled by the fire. The girls split their time, meandering around with their friends in a pack. Rick, the eternal scout, happily chopped enough wood to keep the fire going for days; he generously allowed a couple of boys to beat the crap out of his axe and tomahawk while teaching them some woodcutting tricks. There were foil dinners and marshmallows, four-wheeling and kayaking, and even a couple of moose, including one early-morning visitor to our camp.
Grey Jay and sleepy kiddo.
One of the perks of your kids insisting on growing up is that they become convenient babysitters. Rick and I took advantage and went horseback riding down in Healy, just outside of Denali National Park. It was a little damp, but we spent two hours picking our way through gorgeous wilderness. We did run across a moose; the horses weren't impressed. The blueberries were big enough I could see them from the saddle. After our ride we walked the little Denali tourist strip, talking to the few storeowners who were open. We wanted to eat at Prospector's Pizza, but they weren't open that day. That would be strike one for them.
Having Dad home meant my already weapons-attracted and injury-prone kids got access to new weapons and new opportunities. The blowgun quickly became the favorite. I came home from the store one day to find Echo, Claudia, and Jane casually shooting in the backyard like they'd been doing it their whole lives. *Sigh* At least they were practicing range safety.
Thankfully, we had a better fire season this year--that is to say, we didn't really have one. That didn't stop us from getting a bit of the smoke from the Siberian fires all the way across the Bering Strait. One or two hazy days don't even make the list of top 20 most terrible things to happen this year, though, so...
If the rain was good for keeping down the wildfires, it was also great for my flowers. I think I mentioned them in another post. They did beautifully, and I love having all the colors.
The one low point in all of this was that my eleven-year-old cat, Bat--our one remaining pet--started losing weight and getting pickier about his diet until he refused to eat even chicken. Every time I sat down he was on my lap or curled behind my shoulders. After a couple of weeks, he just started spending days on my bed; he wouldn't purr or yell at me anymore, and showed hardly any interest in anything. Finally we decided it was time to let him go. We put Bat down one evening after hours of pats and snuggles and tears. Rick and I were more emotional than we expected. It's hard to say goodbye to a creature that's been part of your family for over a decade. My heart still hurts over him.
Even though 2020 seems to have a knack for kicking you in the teeth just when things are looking up, there's nothing to do but keep moving forward. And so we will.
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