Crazy's Middle Name

Yes, I'm starting a blog.

No, I'm not crazy.

Scratch that. I may have just, maybe, kinda introduced myself to crazy. 'Cause I honestly can't see myself writing a blog, and upon reflection, the only conclusion I can come to on the matter is that:
a.) I am more closely associated with crazy than I had previously hoped,
or
b.) I am blind. (which would be in no way a new development.)

In crazy's defense I did just relocate myself to Juneau, Alaska, which I must admit was crazy with a capitol Y. But I hope that the fact that I am at the moment deliriously happy about that decision downgrades its craziness.

Whether it does so or not I cannot help but make you all insanely jealous by saying that, at the moment, Juneau is the most idyllic place on Earth.

The weather is gorgeous.



The fireweed has turned white with fuzz.










And Grandma's dahlias are beyond compare.









I've even seen a bear in the 4 short days that I have been here. Uncle Terry was in town and Grandpa and I took him and his copilot to the glacier. (Because you cannot come to Juneau and not see the glacier.)

While we were walking the boardwalk above the salmon stream a scraggly little black bear made its way out of the bushes and meandered along under the walkway and off into the underbrush on the other side.

This is in no way an uncommon occurrence, as there is a community of bears that fish out of the salmon stream for the tourists' amusement. (Well perhaps not entirely for the tourists', but the bears don't seem to mind the attention.)

Yesterday we went blueberry picking up at Eagle Crest, the local ski slope. The weather was perfect and the berry picking phenomenal. We must have picked at least 10 pickers full of berries. (That's about 3 and a half gallon Ziploc bags full.)

We, of course had to wear our "Juneau tennies" (aka Xtra Tuff brand rubber boots). All of that lovely rain may make singular plants, but it also makes singular mud.

Blueberry picking is one of those addicting things where once you've started, you must pick the berries off of every good bush you come across until you've made it back to the car.

We were actually doing pretty good on our way down the road, but we were halted by a particularly good bush hanging right over the road. Grandma said that they were calling her name and she was going to listen!

Grandpa then said "In order to show moral support, I'm going to sit down." And so he did.

I am particularly fond of Alaska cotton. :)

The mark of a day well spent: blueberry-juice hands.

I was reflecting while uploading all of those pictures and have come to a conclusion of sorts. Blogging is not, in fact, the trigger of my new found craziness. It is merely a symptom. Therefore I must resign myself to being crazy's middle name.

I think that's good enough for a first entry. I have to hurry out and take a picture of the sunset.