During this break in an unbroken streak of rain filled days, the little dog and I choose an open trail along the Mendenhall River. Aki’s other human is here too—the one who tosses a Frisbee for her to chase. When the orange disk drops into deep growth, Aki bounces after it through foot high meadow grass. She flies over Indian paintbrush, lupine, beach peas and shooting stars going to seed.
The trail takes us under the airport flight path so except for the mandated intervals between take offs and landings, we can’t hear bird song. I can see swallows working the wetlands for bugs and song sparrows wrestling each other for food. I can see the glacier, from this distance an ice river curving down along mountain flanks. I must listen to the 10:23 Alaska Airlines flight to Sitka and seemingly one turbo beaver after another taking tourists for brief trips away from their cruise ships. The little dog doesn’t mind and, I guess, I can live with this juxtaposition of wild beauty and industrial noise.