Tag Archives: travel

The dregs

After writing everything I wanted to about our Alaska vacation, I was left with a handful of random shots–the dregs of the cup of coffee that was Alaska, so to speak. They don’t form a coherent story, but let’s see what we got.

Ooooh–the flowers. They grow so big. I wonder if I sat out in the strong Alaskan summer sun all day long if I would also grow big.

I’ll make a mental note never to do that, just in case.

The little rubber band wrists of a small sicky resting on the larger hand of a big sicky. Both of the boys got colds around the same time, and rested together in the rocking chair. A sweeter sight has never been seen.

This was amazing–front page Fairbanks news boasts a large picture of a bird flying. Newsflash! Newsflash! Bird spotted flying over body of water!

What a unique moment in the daily affairs of Alaska–not.

The railroad somewhere during our Fairbanks to Anchorage road trip.

The boys, renewing each others’ acquaintance on day one.

Checkin’ each other out. Well, his face is kind of hairy . . .

. . . but I guess he’ll have to do.

Plants by the side of the road . . .

Joyful jumping!

Shots of the dramatic mountains from the rear view mirror . . .

And a very foggy mountain.

And that is it. Phew. I can’t believe I’ve been talking about Alaska for 2 months. Blessings upon each one of you for sticking with me during this gift that keeps on giving.

Have a great Monday, every one! Less dregs and more coherency for the rest of the week. Maybe.

Though on second thought, I wouldn’t count on it.

Tiny Alaska and Lily's . . . "palace"

At Pioneer Park in Fairbanks, Alaska, there is a large riverboat-turned-diorama museum. The different sets chronicle the different kinds of towns that have speckled Alaska throughout the ages. I loved the visualisations of what these towns looked like at different times in history, depending on the people group that founded them.

I love dioramas. I fantasized about being a diorama-maker. I mean, who puts together all those tiny trees? Is there a special tree-making machine somewhere? Or does an actual person glue the branches on one by one? And did that person have to be committed to a mental institution after gluing approximately 5 million branches on approximately half a million tiny trees? And is this person’s name Berthelmina?

Poor Berthelmina.

There’s just something fascinating about a world tinier than a doll house. Look at the cute little U.S. Mail building! Look at the cute little pile of logs!

The adorable pile of luggage! The be-hatted folks of yore! The delightful green shirtwaist!

And then you start wondering about the little people themselves–like, who is this woman?

Why is she leaving the hospital alone? Did she just come from visiting an ailing patient? Or is she a kindly young woman in the flower of her youth who goes to read to the moribund, but will shortly be swept off her feet by a rakish logger (who watches her go in and out every day around 2pm, totally besotted) and taken away into the wilderness for a romantic, rustic life trapping animals and loading up a cellar with preserves for the long winter?

I want to load up the cellar with preserves for the long winter!

Anyway, I wandered around, bent over so that I could see the sets at eye-level and really get into things. Look at that cute train! I breathed. And that cute river! And that cute bear!

And this cute little communal grouping of cabins . . . !

Wait a minute . . . Who is this ‘Lily,’ and what exactly is going on here?

Hey . . . this ain’t no quaint grouping of cute little cabins!