It’s summer in Alaska and the days are long and glorious. It’s light until around midnight now and even when it’s dark, it’s not truly dark. The twilight stretches out, dim and filmy, so that even at 3 a.m., you can see perfectly well, or at least well enough.
Earlier this week, we took an evening walk on the beach with Seriously. I love the evenings up here, when everything quiets and the brush and the birch leaves glow vivid green in the slanted light.
I took these pictures around 10:30 p.m., the sky still light, the air feeling blue and warm and comforting.
Seriously loves the beach. She used to live in Homer, with the woman we share her with (we co-own our dog, which is a great way of sharing the love), and sometimes I think that when she runs across the sand and leaps through the waves, it reminds her of the joy of her puppyhood.
We walked the beach and sat on a large driftwood log and just, you know, let the late-evening sunshine bake our brains nice and happy, because sunshine isn’t always the norm around these parts so when we have it, we get out and enjoy the heck out of it.
We saw a seal swimming in on the tide, though you can’t see it in this picture. Trust me, though–it’s there, somewhere.
On the way back to the trail, we walked up on the soft sand and noticed this: bear paw prints, isn’t that cool? We walked the same path as what looked to be a mama bear and at least one cub.
We also saw an eagle up on top of a spruce tree but since I only had my phone, and not my camera, you can’t really see it.
The next day I pulled a muscle in back and spent the afternoon lounging in the yard and reading, which isn’t a bad way of spending one’s day. I’ve been reading like crazy lately, which feels good. Sometimes I
spend waste too much time on social media and online news/magazine sites, getting upset about the plight of the world. Books are better. They’re deeper and truer and dig past the surface to the blood and guts of who we are. I suppose that’s why I love to read. I’m currently reading three books at once, which is what I often do. You’d think I’d get them mixed up, but I don’t. I appreciate them more for their individuality, and their separate storylines.
P.S. Has anyone else read Godwin’s Violet Clay? I so love this book. This has to be my fifth reading, or maybe my sixth. I also love her Odd Woman, another truly great read.
P.S.S. Tampa is a bit shocking but in an intriguing and well-written sort of way.