2019 has roared in with personality. It began with three feet of snow in three days and now has dropped to 30 degrees below zero. The woodstoves are radiating with heat and the dogs are snuggled up in the straw. The snow, so light and fluffy as it fell, gains an ethereal quality in the cold. It squeeks under foot and breaks off in solid, yet light chunks as you chop it. The cold has come with a stillness that leaves the trees covered in snow.
The cold works at the edges, pushing its way in. The bottoms of my windows build up with a thick layer of ice on the inside, while the snow banks rise halfway up the window pane. Machines do not like the cold. They whine and squeal as they start. Brakes feel stiff when you push on them. The gas pump screens become dim and non-reactive. The music sounds tinny in the dogyard. The speaker’s components are not built to vibrate in these temperatures.
And regardless of weather, the days go round. Feed the dogs. Clean the kennel. Carry the wood. Fill the fire. Run the dogs. Feed the dogs. Clean the kennel. Carry the wood. Fill the fire.
The dogs grow and improve. The pups from last summer look full grown. The Q- litter, in particular, tower over dogs older than them. They dance excitedly in the snow while older dogs calmly enjoy the moment.
The S-litter are almost old enough to be introduced to a harness. Sweets, Switchblade, Skid Steer, Sherman, and Sky Hook watch as the more experienced dogs beg to be hooked up for a run.
The snow was slow to come this year. But now that it is here, Mike finally unveiled his “monster truck” on snow tracks, allowing him to take Max on longer runs while sheltered from the cold.
The snow has also allowed Abi, who has been learning about mushing this winter, to try out using a sled. She is quickly getting the hang of keeping the speed consistant and navigating around the corners.
Mike and I continue to try to find balance between desires: family and ambition, future and past, comfort and cold. But sometimes, at a few perfect moments, these come together. Max walking through the kennel on a clear cold night describing the dogs glowing eyes as a thousand glowsticks. An aging musher from Kotzebue, where dogs truly meant survival, who reaches through time and language barriers to deliver the compliment of “good dogs.” The heat rising in your cheeks, fingers, and soul as you return to the warmth of home after cold travels away.
I find that I spend so much time thinking about what lies ahead and what came before that I sometimes miss where I am right now. My wish for all of us in 2019 is the chance to be right here, right now. To see the person or the dog before me. To enjoy what is, without worrying about what was or what will be.
There’s a land where the mountains are nameless, And the rivers all run God knows where;
There are lives that are erring and aimless, And deaths that just hang by a hair;
There are hardships that nobody reckons; There are valleys unpeopled and still;
There’s a land— oh, it beckons and beckons, And I want to go back— and I will.
Robert Service
Until next time, I hope you are all having as much fun with your dogs as we are with ours. Mike, Caitlin, and Max