Monday, January 01, 2007

Pyrotechnic Traditions and the Arrival of 2007


Today I welcome the Eve of 2007 by taking the dogs for a 10+ mile ski down the Tanana river. The sun sets shortly after we start, painting the subarctic sky with a subtle purple and blue spectral brush and highlighting its strokes with slender cracks bleeding crimson. A nearly full moon rising in the East pushes these colors off the celestial canvas, replacing them with a sheet of midnight blue speckled by the icy white pin-points of Ursa Major. The river we travel slithers like a fat, luminous, white serpent through the black and grey shadows of the engulfing spruce forest. We run through this landscape silently. No moose emerg from the shadows to interrupt our hypnotic stride. Icicles grow like stalagmites from my beard and eyelashes while frost sprays luminous jet streams along the dark mucsles rippling in the flanks of the dogs. We run like this for a mere few hours but in doing so transcend into eternity.

Returning home to the mortal world, we discover a kitchen filled with the aroma of the beef roast Cindy has started simmering on the stove. We wolf down these tender morsels and retire to the living room where the dogs find a warm corner and I settle down to watch several DVDs about Leonardo Da Vinci. Rachel was heading out to watch the fireworks, Leah is with girl friends soaking at Chena Hot Springs. Cindy sleeps on the couch awaiting an expected call to go work at the hospital. When 2007 finally bursts into reality, I wake Cindy trying to recruit her as my accomplice and get-away driver (since my daughters were not available). She is too sleepy to partake of my traditional conspiracy so I alone boldly accept the mission. I gather up my winter gear, stuff my parka pocket with a roll of 1000 fire-crackers and begin the stealthy stalk of my brother-in-laws mail box. My quarry is no match to my pyrotechnic scheming and is soon reduced to a smoldering heap amid its acrid blanket of steaming snow.

The highlight of New Years Day is walking to the grocery store with Cindy in order to pick up supplies for a batch of bean soup. Once there, we share a hot sugar free vanilla lat'e, and pack our supplies into the small back-pack. Walking home along the snowy streets I try to get a step ahead of Cindy prior to reaching each over-hanging tree. Jumping up, I bang the branches causing an avalanche of white powder to engulf my bride. Soon we are half heartedly racing towards each tree, giggling like teenagers beneath our now white parkas. We stop off for a rest at her sister's house where I am promptly and thouroughly reprimanded for my pyrotechnic hooliganism of the previous night. "Hey! don't blame me for the destruction of your mail box. It's tradition after all and traditions are important!"

No comments: