The termination dust in the distance was overwhelmed by the awesome and large beauty of autumn hues along the clear rough upper terrain of the mountains and glaciers above the Girdwood Valley. A long yellow school bus cruised by as Wrangel anxiously fidgeted and re-curled into a new, yet same, position on the greenish brown living room chair. Yesterday he was laying in the middle of the dirt road pretending to guard the lawn as his eyes watched carefully for some one with the time to throw his stick. At this hour in Girdwood, just a few folks walking dogs and sipping coffee own the small town as commuters depart and late sleepers snore. It is beautiful.
Most small towns are that way.
Sometimes, in the autumn, the embracing solitude lasts as late as 9am or 10am as visitors wane, locals travel, and salespeople or delivery drivers rush to their destinations obliviously. Terri carries another load to the the white 15' trailer hooked to a 1994 Nissan truck parked in the driveway. A commuting friend parks and rushes to offer a bon voyage embrace and hurries on down the dustless road. She knows the time. Terri was part of a regular radio show volunteering on Saturday's and other days to help fill the summer slots for Girdwood Community Club's non-commercial radio station.