Monday, July 20, 2009

Peace Becomes Us

What is it about this place, that brings about a serenity that we are unable to achieve in our semi-urban town of Anchorage?

We are a shy 48 hours into our vacation to Homer, Alaska, and already I feel a definite lack of anything remotely resembling stress upon my body and soul. Although gray clouds and periodic rain showers dominate our weather landscape, the pit-pat of drops upon the tin roof of our cabin refresh rather and irritate us, and running along the beach in rubber boots and rain gear brings us back to my youthful days in the Pacific NW, where it seemed to rain every time we went to the ocean.

Yukon is in his element; playing with Bear at the shoreline, running with the dog, pouring beer with a free hand. His ability to put any thoughts of concrete plans from his mind is enviable, and I am trying my best to follow his lead.

Bear is a child in heaven. We geared him up for the upcoming fall and winter at the Kachemak Gear Shed (our place for things every good Alaskan should have), and he has spent the weekend wearing his new Grunden's foul weather pants in a state of sandy bliss.

We visit the beach at least two times a day; eagles and ravens accompany us, as well as just about every dog in Homer. It's a laid-back, mellow place, Homer; we are realizing with every trip down how much the town reminds us of our former home in Port Angeles, WA.

Right now Yukon is down at the Kachemak Shellfish Growers Co-Op obtaining the fresh run from the grower that arrived about ten minutes ago. Bear and I are taking a breather after some pilot bread and hot chocolate, and are admiring our fast-growing collection of rocks and shells that is taking over the south windowsill.

This is the place.

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