A GOOD TIME TO BE ALIVE

Sunday, August 8

A shinning sun greeted us at nine when we rose. It was already sixty one degrees.

The writer headed off to the shower in the lodge while Onie fixed breakfast, coffee, tea, biscuits, possum jelly and figs. When the writer returned from the shower he read the paper, ate and got dressed for church. As he left the camp he was alone in the car. No one else opted to go to church on this beautiful morning.

He was home at twenty minutes to one.

As he headed for the coach he noticed the fireweed bloom was nearing the top of the stem. We all know that legend has it that when the fireweed bloom reaches the top of the stem it is only six weeks from a killing frost. That would be a frost of twenty five or so that last ten or twelve hours. It is another way of saying that fall has arrived and summer has fled.

The pansy's we had last year in our planters did return this year of their own volition however that volition did not encourage them to mature or bloom except for one that was outside the box. It had grown in the harsh gravel of the driveway but bloomed beautifully, another proof that hardship does not mean failure but often results in beautiful endings.

Kristin and Gary were in the coach eating biscuits, possum jelly and figs when the writer returned from church. He joined them and had a cup of hot cocoa.

Their meal at an end Gary and Kristin went to the grate to fish. They both fished like veterans and had some luck. Kristin lost two while Gary strung one.

Kristen and Gary enjoying the fishing.

Kristen holding the catch.

Three o'clock saw them off to Custom for twenty pounds of reds. The writer fished in their absence, to see if there were any fish on the river. In twenty minutes he had two. Twelve thousand had come in.

When Gary and Kristin returned from Custom, Gary and the writer went up to Kurt's to get a larger insulated box, put the salmon in it and add some halibut from the trip the other day. When the box was loaded and sealed it weighed forty eight and half pounds. Gary said that would be enough fish to last his family a year when they added in the three or four cases of canned salmon we would be bringing back for them. They headed back down the hill with the box as well as halibut for the Blomstrom freezer. It was from the most recent trip and had been freezing in Kurt's flash freezer since the trip. Back at the Marlin it would be placed in the large freezer.

Kristin was waiting at the Marlin when Gary and the writer returned. It was nearing six o'clock, the time they had set to depart for Anchorage and the first leg of their trip home. A few things were placed in their rented car, hugs were exchanged and they were on their way.

The Marlin pair, Onie and the writer, had an invitation for dinner at Kurt's. They would be joined by Mike and Margarete. On the menu was rack of lamb.

Brushes were run though hair and the distaff side applied lipstick before the pair got in the toad and headed up the hill. The writer had put a few packaged salmon tails in a bucket in the back of the car. When they arrived at Kurt's he went to the vacuum packer where he sealed them before joining the dinner party in the living room.

At seven thirty we sat down to a gourmet meal with Kurt, Mike and Margarete. An hour and a half later we pushed back from the table, sated and then some. It had been a wonderful meal and the good company and conversation made it just that much better.

It had been a great evening with good friends and good food. We missed Becky but she was all around us in her house which showed her touch and presence every where one looked. Now at eleven we headed back to the coach where Onie readied herself for bed, bade the writer goodnight and sought a peaceful slumber.

With the canner already loaded the writer did not want to leave the job of canning to Onie, in the morning. She had a big week and was obviously tired, ready for a break. The writer told her he would see her in a bit and lit the fire under the canner. Then he started a fire in the fire pit. With a fire burning in the pit, the canner heating and Lefty Frizell singing to the night winds the writer went in to the coach to play a few games and make a few notes.

When he thought the canner might be up to temperature he went out to check on it. A steady stream of steam was emanating from the vent. He noticed the time and then loaded more wood on the fire. Ten minutes later he added the weight and returned to his seat under the canopy. The cold nipped at the nape of his neck while the blazing yellow campfire warmed his face. Overhead the intermittent rain played on the canvas canopy as the wind drove it head long into everything in front of it. With the fire, the heat, the wind, the rain, the music and the whistling canner it was indeed a good day, a good time, to be alive. Certainly there were folks who were trying to solve the problems of mankind, those the writer had already solved and sent the answers to all those leaders, but here was a more basic, if mundane, chore, providing for the physical needs of man and wife.

The fruits of this night's labor would be enjoyed in days to come and with the enjoyment would come memories of a night spent under cold Alaskan skies with a campfire nearby and a rain overhead. The ninety minutes ticked by as slowly as the falling rain, as the fire burned brightly and the writer thought back to other campfires and friends he had shared those campfires with. Many of those friends were gone, waiting on a distant shore, where, in the eternal scheme of things, the writer would soon join them. For now he was enjoying the wood smoke, the heat and the rain.

Show me a person who doesn’t enjoy a campfire and I will show you a person who is disconnected from his ancestral past when life was much slower and there weren't so many decisions to be made. In those days there was no decision to be made about what to do or to wear, one had a suit of clothes and that was what was worn. There was food in the kitchen and that was what was cooked. When it got dark one went to sleep. When it got light one got up. Life was simple, if primitive by today’s standards, but stress levels had to be much lower and families much more cohesive if for no other reason than necessity. Enter electricity, mobility, instant news and one has heart attacks, strokes as well as a general discontent.

Is the writer suggesting one give up the advances the years have brought, no, he is just suggesting one might want to consider the cost for those advances and what a person has to do to counteract the dire cost. One might want to consider the campfire and a reconnect with the outdoors and the One who made it.

The clock ticked off the minutes until ninety had elapsed. The fire was burning low as was the writer's energy level. The last song on the CD had played and the rain had stopped. It was near two o'clock in the morning.

The main valve on he propane bottle was turned off and the writer went in to bed. Later today he would take the jars out of the canner.

MUSHROOMS

Monday, August 9

Onie must be the early bird of the family as she is usually up before Pawpaw. This morning she was up at nine. Bright sunshine greeted her as she made coffee and tea.

The writer was up at ten and broke his fast with banana and cold cereal.

Onie was off to Curves at eleven.

The writer read the paper, checked email, showered and went up the hill at a quarter to twelve.

He and Kurt as well as Sidney worked to clean up the garage so both of Kurt's vehicles could be stored inside this winter.

The sun continued to shine warming the air to seventy four. Inside the garage and house the guys worked in tee shirts that were being stained by sweat.

Outside mushrooms of every kind were every where.

Things that had been in the garage were taken to the basement and some to the shed. Other things were readied to be stored in a second shed that will be on site tomorrow.

The vacuum packers were cleaned and put in the basement to wait for next year's catch.

Outside the trio looked at the back yard and decided on where fire pit should go.

Back down at two thirty the writer found Onie who had been back from Curves and Freddie's for a while.

We opened the canner. All the jars had sealed.

Inside notes were made.

Outside it was clouding up and cooling off.

A generator belt had been squeaking on the way up. Now it was time to work on that generator belt and see if it is a loose idler pulley or just a slick belt. Onie was napping. The front of the coach was opened up and the access panel to the generator removed. The belts seemed to be tight so some belt dressing was applied and then the unit was started. With the belts in motion more dressing was applied and then a load was placed on the generator. No slip or squeak was heard. Everything was buttoned back up and the generator allowed to run for half an hour with the load. No squealing or slippage occurred.

Next the belts on the toad were sprayed with the dressing and then it was stored for future use.

Cloudy and fifty four seemed like good fishing conditions, what conditions are not good for fishing, so the writer grabbed his rod and bucket and headed for his spot on the grate. Twelve thousand fish had passed the sonar counter yesterday and some of them had to be coming past the grate. Two hours later the number had been reduced by the five that hung on the writer's stringer. By the end of the two hours the rain that had been somewhat moderate had turned heavy and quite cold.

After fileting the fish the fisherman went to the coach to dry out and warm up. At nine it was drizzling and cold, fifty one.

We were in bed at ten.

BED

Tuesday, August 10

We both rose at seven. Onie had her coffee and we talked.

The writer dressed, had cold cereal and a banana with hot tea and worked crosswords.

When he couldn't warm up he went back to bed and turned on the electric blanket.

Onie was off to Curves at eight thirty.

The writer stayed in bed all day, dressed under the blankets with the electric one turned on.

When Onie returned from Curves she cleaned Becky's canner, and with other stuff we had, took it up the hill to Kurt's. It is time to be sorting things out, returning things not ours and retrieving things we have loaned. She came back with our red salmon tails that we had left to flash freeze.

The writer got out of bed long enough to put a propane tank and the burner in the car for her as she headed up to Mike and Margarete's with her canner to help them can.

The writer slept.

At a cabin on the hill Onie, Margarete and Mike did three canners.

She was back at five thirty.

We had an invitation to supper at Mike and Maragrete's. It was time to rise and shine if he writer was going to make a showing. He rose but just how much he shone would be open for debate.

Onie drove again as the couple went up the hill. Kurt had been invited too and arrived just after we two. The ladies visited and busied themselves in the kitchen while the guys solved the world's problems, one more time.

With tomato, pork chops and potatoes on the table we sat down to dine. Rhubarb pie was served for dessert.

Onie took us home at eight thirty.

Mark and Caity, aka Katy, were on the grate fishing. She had two of the ten thousand five hundred fish that came in yesterday. The writer thinks it takes the fish about twenty four hours to reach here after they pass the counter. The numbers seem to be holding steady. Sidney and Barbara were sitting on the steps to the grate giving Caity moral support.

In the coach the writer went back to bed where he and Onie watched Tru TV until ten.

MORE BED

Wednesday, August 11

Once again Onie was up at seven, had her coffee, dressed and headed off to Curves at eight thirty, with Kay.

The driver was awake and watched Tru TV until nine thirty when he got up to make tea and notes.

Outside it was overcast and fifty two. Last night the temp had dropped back into the forties for the first time in a while.

The driver checked his email and dressed before Onie returned.

She prepared breakfast; more coffee and tea with steel cut oats.

The driver helped Onie get the dirty clothes to the laundry before he emptied the holding tanks and got fresh water on board. Jay helped him.

Once again Mike came by to talk about smoking fish. We reviewed how long to leave them in the smoker, the temperature, how much wood to use and when to take the fish out of the smoker. While he was outside the driver talked to Chelsie who was fishing. He was catching some. Sixty seven hundred came in yesterday.

Then it was back to bed where the driver rested, dozed and watched GSN.

Onie came back with some of the wash and the driver put up the part that was his before returning to bed for more rest. Onie went back to the laundry. After a while she was back with more clean clothes. This time the driver continued resting. In all she did seven loads of laundry while the driver mostly slept.

The laundry completed and put away, for the most part, the driver still had some to stow, Onie turned her hand to preparing supper, chicken and dumplings.

After supper the driver went back to bed.

Later Onie joined him and they watched Tru TV and GSN before going to sleep at eleven.

ER

Thursday, August 12

We both woke around nine thirty.

Outside intermittent light rain was falling through the fifty two degree air. As one might suspect it was very overcast.

Onie made tea and coffee to be downed with our breakfast of bacon and eggs. The writer made a few notes while Onie was busy in the kitchen.

After breakfast the driver was still very tired and went back to bed with a hard dry cough. His chest felt very tight as he tried to breathe. He dozed off and on.

Dixie brought over fresh beets, fresh shelled English peas and a big cabbage.

Onie defrosted the coach freezer and cleaned out the fridge keeping a solicitous eye and ear open to the needs of the driver.

She cooked the fresh beets and we each ate one. They were very sweet and good.

The driver turned writer and stayed up to make a few notes, open mail, do some agency work, pay bills and answer mail before going back to bed.

Only sixty two hundred fish came in yesterday and it appears the run may be winding down.

Dawn had called a couple of times when the writer had been away for the phone. Now propped up in bed he called her back to chat and catch up on the news from home.

It was early afternoon and Onie went to Curves and to shop. She got back home about seven thirty.

The writer was awake watching GSN.

She made herself a tomato sandwich for supper. With no appetite the writer opted to skip supper.

For the last couple of days Onie had been suggesting that the driver should go to the ER at Central Peninsula Hospital. It is next to impossible to find a doctor in Alaska who will accept Medicare. To the readers who are politically sensitive to negative things about our government and its workings this is not a political comment. It is a fact. By eight o'clock the labored breathing of the driver was too much for him so Onie drove him in to the ER in Soldotna. This is a very good place to be when one is ill. The people are friendly, accommodating and there is a minimal amount of paperwork to deal with. We received excellent care. The driver was still cold, as he had been for days, and warm blankets covered him as he was being treated. Even Onie, who was chilly, was given a warm blanket.

By two we were back home in the Marlin. The doctor told us that the driver was suffering from a bad case of bronchitis. He had sent home some meds as well as a few prescriptions to be taken over the next four days at which time the driver will be good as new.

Tired but feeling better than he had in days the driver joined Onie in bed at three.

SOB

Friday, August 13

In unison we rose at nine thirty, made the bed and went to get our coffee and tea.

Onie fixed our steel cut oats while the writer printed some crosswords.

When we rose it had been sunny but before breakfast and the crosswords were finished the clouds had moved in. The thermometer sat at fifty three.

Onie had agreed to pick Margarete up at eleven for yard sales. Good to her word she was there at eleven.

The writer stayed in the Marlin in sweats and near the heater.

Some writing was accomplished but for the most part it was resting that got done.

Eighty eight hundred fish came in yesterday but the thought of fishing never entered the writer's mind as he lay on the bed.

By three thirty he was getting hungry so he rose and nuked some chicken and dumplings.

Rain had started at noon and continued now but the writer went out anyway to store the canner, propane bottles and cooker. While he was at it he took out the trash then it was back in the house to make notes, rest and read. He was still short of breath (sob for you medical types) and tired easily. He didn't move until Onie came home later.

Onie and Margarete had a good time at the yard sales and each came home with some new treasures, a new pair of sunglasses for the driver and a pretty pottery piece for the navigator.

Later that evening more chicken and dumplings were heated and eaten before Onie and Pawpaw watched some TV before retiring.

THANKSGIVING

Saturday, August 14

The sun was shining at seven and had heated the air to a temperate of ifty two but by nine it had lost the battle for dominance as cloudy skies and rain ruled. The temp had managed another degree of increase by ten.

Onie made coffee and tea and brought the writer a steaming cup of tea, in bed.

A king's breakfast followed; coffee and tea, oven fresh hot stone ground whole wheat flour biscuits, venison feral hog sausage, fresh raspberry jam from Dixie and Chelsie, possum jelly and figs from Patty and TLC from Onie. We worked crosswords as we broke our fast.

Strong prescription cough medicine followed breakfast and vertigo followed the cough medicine. There would be limited activity once again for the writer.

Onie filled her pill boxes and the writer put multivitamins in his. When he had filled his boxes a few days ago the supply of multivitamins had run out before he was finished. He checked his email, made a few notes and typed a letter to Central Peninsula Hospital-Emergency Room to release records to his internist.

The skies remained overcast and a light rain was still falling at two thirty.

The nine thousand five hundred fish swimming by the grate weren't bothered by the overcast or rain.

Onie worked on her oriental salad and deviled eggs for tonight's event. The writer rested but finally showered at four thirty and then dressed.

Thanksgiving dinner was served at five at Don and Julie's. Once again canopies were in place to protect the diners. Turkey, dressing, ham, deviled eggs, mashed potatoes and other dishes along with several desserts graced the tables.

Sandy, Dixie, LaVon, and Onie chat.

Chuck, Sidney, and Chelcie

Julie, Barbara, and Donny.
 

The writer was home at seven, once more tired and winded. He sat down to make a few notes before finding the bed.

Seven thirty saw Onie darken the door of the coach. She had come home to check on the writer. Assured he was fine and comfortable she headed back to the party as this would be the last of the season for the Blomstroms as they head to Nova Scotia next week.

The writer watched at TV and dozed until Onie came in about ten. Then they both went to sleep.