Yup. It has happened again. Summer screamed by, and all of the things I meant to do relative to the flock (relocate the manure pile, enlarge the pen, add a new gate) didn’t get done.
Now it is a mad scramble to get all of the pre-winter preparations done: top off the wood pile, pick low-bush, stock the freezer with moose and ducks (if you are a hunting sort) winterize the car, and clean up the yard.
In mid September, three pilots fly paramotors (powered paragliders) from Bodenburg Butte, near Anchorage Alaska, to the Knik Glacier by way of the Knik River Valley.
With the flooded river valley and fall colors along the way to the glacier it makes for a “Flight of Fantasy”.
It’s hard to believe that September is already here. Every summer I rush around trying to get as much accomplished as I can before the growing season is over, and every summer seems to fly by.
This years garden has a lot more successes then failures, however, and it has me excited for the future!
I’m a bit salmon obsessed of late, and for good reason. You see, after an extremely successful fishing trip in Valdez’s Prince William Sound, I’m a bit salmon-heavy at my house. And frankly, that’s putting it lightly.
It comes down to this: if I don’t eat all this salmon, I can’t fit anything else in my freezer.
In the winter, in the late fifties and early sixties, when construction season in Anchorage was dead and Dad grew bored with painting landscapes, he got out his tripod and the black Graphlex he’d bought at Stewart’s Photo on Fourth Avenue.
The large box-like camera looked like those used by professional photographers, maybe for Life Magazine.
The Portrait Society of America held its annual conference in Atlanta and featured illustrator James Gurney. As a parent, I was familiar with his book Dinotopia but had never looked beyond the bedtime story scenario.
I chose a Gurney break-out session and began to learn how approachable he was.
On July 27, 2013 Alaskans celebrated the 30th anniversary of the fabled Crow Pass Crossing. It is a 24 mile race in the backcountry of the Chugach State Park between Girdwood and Eagle River. It is completely unsupported – all you have are 8 required items and your fellow competitors to keep you alive.
A group of mountain runners want to document this race through a feature film for the 2014 race.
While some relax rafting or playing 18 holes of golf, I spent a portion of my summer on campus. When not writing essays for Town Square 49, or painting with acrylics, I attend low-residency PhD classes at The Institute for Doctoral Studies in the Visual Arts.
This program allows students to absorb classical philosophy while never getting out of their pajamas.
Chris Reynolds has spent most of his life chasing the ever elusive “hang time,” sports like snowboarding provide. Recently, he found a new love and a new adrenaline high: Paramotoring.
In this new video, Reynolds shows us what Alaska mountaintops look like during the summer months.
A few months ago a classmate’s mother celebrated her 100th birthday with a card party. That is, we were invited to create and send cards to commemorate her milestone.
Several of us remembered and shared stories of her late husband, Mr. Norton, the beloved principal of North Star Elementary School in Anchorage.
The Brooklyn Museum of Art is a short subway ride from Midtown and although it competes with Manhattan’s museum trifecta: Metropolitan, Guggenheim, and MoMA, lately it’s been packing a mean punch.
John Singer Sargent could paint anything, as noted in his seafaring compositions where canvas sails soften wooden boats which lap up reflections from the water.
There is something in your kitchen that you’ve been neglecting. Perhaps you received it as a wedding present. Or its been passed down to you from your grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmother. Or maybe you’ve been living without one all this time.
The cast iron skillet.
The opportunity to grill and serve a halibut in the whole doesn’t come along every day, particularly in waters where 50-pound fish are more commonly caught than five-pounders.
But, I could feel the characteristic thumping of a halibut 130 feet below, and I knew the metal jig I was fishing might have found just the fish we were looking for.