Hello From Alaska

         

Day 1

One of the views from our trip near the Turnagain Arm area.

I am having a holiday visiting the homestead where I was raised, and signing a few copies of the book, "Just Breathing the Air."  I hope to post more pictures and stories later. 

Day 2

If you click for a larger view, you might be able to see this loon on the lake; the same lake that my father took us on for sailboat and row boat rides in the 1950's.  The homestead is not the same, without the people that made it into the adventure that it was, but I am going to enjoy the sweet solitude of the beautiful lake. The house is completely gone, and all the out buildings, but there are many reminders left: the well, and pieces of the little dock where we tied up the skiff.    They say you can tell the measurement of a lake by how many loons live there.  I saw only one, so far, but in the old times there could be 10. 

I took this photograph from the shore on the part of the homestead property (originally 160 acres) where Mother and Daddy first built a temporary cabin to live in, and where Mother first rowed the boat her husband built for her, to pick a bowl of water lilies, which you see in the distance there. Please click on the picture for a beautiful view!

This is the over-grown path to the lake, viewed from where the Big House once sat. Click on for a larger view.  My father discouraged complaining or any kind of negative talk, saying we should be just happy to be alive, and just glad to be breathing the air.

This is near the area where the first little, temporary cabin was built to house them through one winter and a summer while the Big House, about a quarter of a mile further up the lake, was being built. My father and mother chose a hill between two lakes to build the Big House, which was a name used to distinguish it from the temporary cabin, meaning it was a permanent residence.

Here we found hundreds of strawberries, no doubt spreading from Mother's original strawberry patch. They are pale peach in color when ripe, and the vine stands in a crook type loop up off the ground so that the berries will not get wet or lay in the ground. They smell like cotton candy.

Day 3 and 4: Visiting friends.

Day 5

One of the scenes on a trip to Seward

Fireweed in bloom.

Along certain sections of this glacier are signs with dates showing how much it has melted since the 1800's.

Day 6

Ninilchik, historic Russian fishing village at the mouth of the Ninilchik River. Originally, the residents spoke a Russian dialect called Ninilchik. This is the view to the west, from the top of the bluff.

View of Ninilchik from the river, looking east toward the bluff. I saw this town many times 40 years ago, and always thought it rather mysterious. Today it looks the same size, and very little chnge has taken place. The Russian fishing boats are still in their little harbor, bearing names like "Volga" and Russian ladies names.

Day 7:  Some photographs of  Tea Time at the lake---who could resist it in such a setting!

Click on for a better look.

This beautiful bouquet consists of various shades of yarrow, clover and other natural things from the area. I used it on one of the outdoor tea tables.

The strawberries were picked from the forest near the lake. They are a special northern berry that grows up off the ground and smells like cotton candy. Although they are pale in color and do not look ripe at all, they are very, very sweet.

If you click on for a larger view, you can see the fireweed surrounded by ferns in a bouquet in the kerr canning jar on the left, picked from the hill behind the lake.

I enjoyed looking through an old window frame from our house that once stood on a hill above the lake. Regrettably, I will not be able to take the frame home with me. It will not fit in my pink suitcase, and cannot go separately. After I watched the way baggage is treated, I would not risk taking it.  It is better off where it is.

Our view from those big picture windows in the log house was the same then as it is today.

Day 8



Many moose but no mosquitoes. I am glad I saw this one from the window of the vehicle instead of while walking on a trail.

After that, a bit of refinement to soften the edges, by a visit to a Victorian shop:

posted with permission from Donna in Soldotna

and another tea table with a framed view of the forest, using a part of the original window from the log house.



The scones on the outdoor tea table are called "Butter and Cream Scones" from the May/June issue of Victoria magazine; one of their blue issues. The recipe is on page 88 and may also be available online. Non-dairy users can substitute olive oil and flax meal for the butter and cream.  Course flour works very well with this (unrefined) and I used unbleached flour for one batch of them. The recipe is also included in one of the "Bliss" special editions (the one with the blue scene on the front--the first one that was issued last year).

My pink suitcase was the only one I could find at a discount store so late in the season, and it got quite a beating. I got to see it loaded, unloaded, tossed, slammed down, and kicked, as I watched out the window where I sat in the airplane. I have given up packing  tea cups for any of my friends.

I quit the wilderness one afternoon and went to the fabric store to buy this fabric. It is a quilter's fabric that feels like rayon and sews up so easily; a woven with a lot of "give." The buttons just matched the print. I made a skirt and blouse because I was so careful not to over-load my suitcase that I did not pack enough clothing. The limit is 50 pounds and mine was only 35. I think I can take back a lot more, but I saw how mean the airport crew treated my pink suitcase, throwing it about, so whatever I take back with me will be soft, like this fabric.  Buying fabric is so much easier than it was years ago when we ordered it from a catalog and waited 3 months! 

The skirt and blouse looks almost the color of the fireweed.

Day 8

A visit to the house we lived in a few years in the town of Homer, where we fished for crab, shrimp and halibut for a living. We also sold huge amounts of berries picked at Kasitna Bay and sold pinecones by the gunne sack. I knocked on the door and showed the current resident an old photograph of the house and she kindly let me come in and look around. It was the sweetest house, and as small as it looks, there were 5 bedrooms, plenty of room for all nine of us in the family.

Kachemak Bay

...not a very clear day for a picture of this marvellous scenery.

Day 9 

This is a paper birch bark tree on the homestead, down by the lake. I used this kind of bark for that quirky fake-cake I made a few posts ago.

Day 10

A trip to get more pictures of Kachemak Bay on a sunnier day.

Mt. Ilyamna, one of four volcanic mountains we used to be so familiar with, the others being Spurr, Redoubt and Augustine.  Redoubt blew up when we lived on the Homestead, covering it with a layer of ash, which later produced the biggest crop of vegetables we ever had.

Illyamna from the beach at Clam Gulch

The wild rose, which produces rose hips which are used for jam and syrup.

A visit to the Norman Lowell art gallery in Anchor Point. Norman and my father went on a few trips together to find wild life and art subjects, over 40 years ago, and I took art lessons from him when I was a girl.

A Good Report is Good For the Home

Part of the old homestead road, later called the "home road."

It makes sense to put home life in a positive light. My belief is that it does no good to harbor resentment or to dwell on unhappy events. There were probably other women like me whose parents were careful to teach the value of creating something good to remember, out of circumstances that seem very dire at the time.

A view from where the windows of the house used to be. My father chose a place on a hill, to build a house, where it would get the most benefit from light, sun, and warmth. It turned out to be the very best spot.
I tried to capture the dew drop in the middle of the going-to-seed lupines. It glistened a lot more than this in "real life" than in the picture.

This is the place where Mama tied up her little canoe that Daddy built her when they first began their life in the wilderness. The metal post he put into the edge of the lake for her to tie up the boat, is still there. The tree roots created a natural stair-step path to the little cabin that they lived in temporarily while the "big house" was being built. This little cabin had a tent for a roof, and one day it caught fire while Mama was sleeping. She quickly got the children out onto the snow, on sleeping bags, and that is how our Dad found us when he came home that night. He wasted no time putting on a real roof, with a bucket for a chimney. I found pieces of the red tile in the ground, where this cabin had once stood.

In connection with this wonderful trip to remember the lives of my parents when they were in their early 20's, I got a sense that although they had hardship, they did not allow themselves to dwell on anything morbid or anything unhappy, for very long. Although I remember many things happening that were not pleasant, my parents insisted that we not speak negatively about any event in a way that would discredit the family, and my mother, in particular would answer people who asked how she was doing, by saying, "We are just fine! We are doing well."

There were a lot of people like that, in those days. We just assumed that most trials were normal to real-life, and did not waste time complaining. I think today, we as homemakers, have to remember that we are writing our own story, and that we contribute a lot to the negative view of being a guide and guard of the home, by complaining.

If we give a bad report, people will conclude that the role of a homemaker is not a lofty one, but a demeaning one. Of course, there will always be times when it seems you can be lost in a mountain of laundry, or an over-supply of tomatoes from the garden that need attention right now. There will be times when you are tired, sick, or discouraged, but there is no profession that will guarantee that there will be perfect rest, perfect health, perfect plans or perfect results.

There will always be those who wish break down the home, as there has been, from the beginning of time. In the book of Genesis, one reason that Eve lost her beautiful home, is that she wanted the one thing she could not have. In that beautiful garden there was nothing denied her except the fruit on one tree. She believed she was missing out on something. Because she took of that one fruit, she lost the whole garden!

Sometimes homemakers will think they are missing out on something, and start to complain, not realizing that they have so much that they will lose, if they go out into the working world. Many who have no choice but to work, will gladly tell you they are losing a lot of ground in their house keeping and with their children and other interests. The workplace takes up the major part of the day and the week, the month and the year. The homes that cost so much in monthly payments, can sometimes be barely lived in, when a woman gets a career.

I was just in an antique store, where I looked at some old school readers with very nice art in them. Some of them were dated in the 1920's. I like old books, so I thought there would be something of value in these. What a revelation I had when I read so many negative stories connected to home making and being a wife or mother. I thought to myself that the war on women at home began a long time ago, breaking down the image of the woman as the nuturer of the home, one decade at a time.

In one of the stories in this reader, a woman was shown in a very pretty gown sitting on a nice chair, looking out a window. It was a very peaceful scene in her home, and I thought maybe the story would reflect it, but instead, it was a story telling a woman that she didn't know what she wanted. It portrayed her as lacking contentment. The next chapter showed a drawing of a woman in what I would call a very stiff outfit, a suit of some kind, her hair shorn short, doing some kind of work away from her lovely home. The story put this woman in a good light, telling her that she knew what she wanted. Little elf-like creatures were sitting on the shelves speaking to her on every page.

Although it might have been hardly noticeable to a child, the seeds of discontent were sown in these stories that compared the woman in charge of the home to a woman away from home. Nothing was written in this reader about the many duties that a woman was responsible for at home. Nothing was shown about her responsibility and her achievements at home. She was shown in a negative light. She was shown as being discontent. If we are not careful, we can do the same. We can show home making in a good light, or show discontent, and perhaps lose that life at home. We probably need to give a good report to ourselves, our children or our husband, at the end of each day, about life at home. It re-enforces the belief that God created the home to meet the needs of mankind.

There is probably nothing we can do about those naysayers who do not want women to be able to stay home and see that it is run smoothly, but there is a lot that can be done about the way we portray our lives to others "from without." We can do a lot to give the home a good reputation. Everyone has a relative or a friend who seems to be just looking for a crack or a break in their lives to prove that marriage, or homemaking is just the worst choice a woman could make. We can not divulge our discouragement to people who are not on our side.

We can refrain from revealing problems with our children unless they are people who are going to really help us succeed. We can also refuse to reveal personal anxieties to our own children. The parents of the past tried to protect their children from their fears. They didn't think childhood should be disturbed by too much worry.

We can refuse to complain to anyone unless they are people who really believe in what we are doing. We can be careful about our appearance, which is an important part of giving a good reputation to our families. We can be sure to warn our children not to talk about their family problems to others, or to tell their family business abroad. We can at least have one room looking peaceful and tidy, so that when someone enters the house, it feels orderly and calm. There are many things we can do to protect the reputation of the home, ourselves.

In one of the stories in this reader, a woman was shown in a very pretty gown sitting on a nice chair, looking out a window. It was a very peaceful scene and I thought maybe the story would reflect it, but instead, it was a story telling a woman that she didn't know what she wanted. It portrayed her as lacking a steady purpose of life. The next chapter showed a drawing of a woman in what I would call a very stiff outfit, a suit of some kind, doing some kind of work at a desk. The story put this woman in a good light, telling her that she knew what she wanted.

It would be hard for a reader of a young age to see what was missing in this elementary reader. The woman who was not at home all the time, could also have been shown in a different light, going from job to job, and being told she just didn't know what she wanted. Instead, the homemaker was shown as discontent, aimless, and without purpose.

No matter what events occurred in our lives, many of our mothers made sure they ended on the up-side. The car may have gotten stuck at the end of the road, but the walk home could be pleasant. The plates might not have been washed, due to the fact there was no water, but we learned to turn them upside down and eat of the back of them. We may not have had money, but we learned how to use available things, to create what we needed. Many people in those days wanted to find a way to make a day end pleasantly, even if there had been troubles. Our night time prayers gave us great relief in troubles, and helped us begin the next day with a great deal of hope. The alternatives became future stories that were handed down to the grandchildren.

Of course, there are "giants in the land" in the form of government agencies, courts and judges, and various kinds of educational establishments, that seem always at work to divide the home rather than keep it intact, but like Caleb, I think it would do us more good to bring back a good report, particularly to those who seem ready to denounce the idea of guiding the home full time, and to insist that the members of the home only give a good report of their home life

I'm Back

I walked around the lake and had one last look. Picked a bouquet of the local flora: fireweed, wild geranium, dogwood, yarrow, reeds, and a freshwater clam shell makes a wonderful bouquet, which is good enough for a wedding, in my opinion.

There had always been a great supply of white gravel on the homestead, which my father made the home road from.

Looked at the Russian architecture in the old part of Kenai, which I saw often, as a child.

I'm going to list some Alaskan women's blogs on the side bar, separate from the US and overseas blogs, so if you want your blog there, please send it.

"I Thought We Might Visit...

to the Lake Country. Would you like to come?" (Lizzie's Aunt Gardner in P&P by Jane Austen)

I take my photographer, Beth, with me, wherever I go. My camera would not cooperate when I got here, so she takes these majestic photographs of the homestead.

This is the lily pad area of the lake where my mother used to row in the Lil Kathy, to pick a bouquet, in the morning, before "us kids" even woke up.

I just can't get enough of the reflection!

This is where we buried our cars. Was this a Nash, or a Packard?
Mother's strawberries were a special kind that grew in hanging clusters that stood well off the ground. In those days, people shared slips of strawberry plants or other plants and flowers, and I think these were a variety of strawberries that were grown in Michigan. The berry patch she had behind the house, has now grown across the road, and all over the acerage, down by the swamp, up the hill, and alongside the road. They have a delicious flavor and smell like cotton candy.

This is a pile of fishing net, still with the wooden floats, found in the forest, which was not a forest when we lived here. They were laying a-top a corrugated tin roof on the ground.

I just can't thank Beaver and Carol enough for bringing the canoe and waiting so patiently while I rowed down memory lane.

And I hope Beth hangs on to that camera!

Then and Now

Approximatey 1954. On the left: Joe, Lillian and two of "us kids", and my father's sister taking a picture of the picture-taker.

September 5, 2008, their oldest daughter in the same place.

This was a glorious moment for me, as I thought about how my parents felt, when they first stood on this spot--a girl of merely 22 and her handsome young husband of 25. Yesterday I visited my science teacher and he asked me if my mother still had the same "laugh."

"Yes, she does! "

He asked about my father. "Is he well?"

"Yes," I said. "He is 83."

"What is he doing now?" asked Mr. Bracht.

"He was fixing the roof, the other day, and my brother drove by his house. He said,

'Dad! You are 83 years old! Please, don't get so close to the edge of that roof! Get over closer to the middle!"

I was so surprised at how many people handed me a copy of my book to be autographed, and how everyone wanted to know about my parents. I took a large party of people with me to visit the Norman Lowell studios. Norman reminded me that my Dad had taken him across to Kachemak Bay many times to sketch the Ekron Cannery and the house the Ekrons lived in. Then he gave me a signed copy of a book of those sketches he made on those many trips on my Dad's fishing boat, and I gave him a picture of the boat. The Ekrons were interesting people. Mr. Ekron was from Norway and spoke another language. The family paid us to fish for them, and then paid us to work in their cannery to process the fish, and then let us spend the night in their cabin, and fixed us meals. I don't think they made much money but they sure helped us out.

I hope everyone is enjoying the pictures.