Trailer Wife

I haven't got around to writing very much about the landscape of Alaska, mostly because I've been spending my time indoors arranging, organizing and stocking the cupboards of our new home. This is odd because a) I'm a big landscape person, and b) there is really nothing else here to write home about except... dramatic landscape. It is achingly beautiful in a scraggly, barely restrained and wild sort of way. The kind of beauty that you really need double-reinforced knee-high steel-toed boots to enjoy. But the University of Alaska must have anticipated cupcakes like me joining their ranks, because they've built a network of sun-dappled manicured trails just behind campus. In the summer, these trails are perfect for running, biking or even strolling with the buggy (which Gus highly approves of). And in the winter they are transformed into wonderful snow-shoeing and cross country skiing paths. This photo was taken with my iphone, and barely represents the glory of the captured afternoon. Yes, that is blue sky you see through the trees - it happens!

As park-like as these trails appear, there is still the Alaskan wild to consider. This sign, at the trail head, made me ponder the relative danger one might find themself in when confronted with a Moose. I've heard stories about the wily and ferocious habits of these cow-like beings, which are, frankly, hard to believe. Bill Bryson (whose book, A Walk in the Woods I just read) describes these enormous animals as, "the most improbable, endearingly hopeless creature to ever live in the woods; its spindly legs, its chronically puzzled expression, its comical oven mitt antlers--looks like some droll evolutionary joke." And I couldn't agree more. The name Moose is algonquin for "twig-eater," for heaven's sake.