Ketchikan, Alaska

First day in Alaska. Dressed in the warmest clothes I can find, holding Jack’s hand, I step outside and for a second, recoil at the cold. Taking a step into the sun and a deep breath, I relax and look around. It reminds my eyes of Banff, Alberta, a small, pretty town nestled in the Rocky mountains of Canada. It reminds my nose and my heart and my soul of home.

More specifically, it reminds me of a beautiful winter Nova Scotian day. Those days when the temperature jumps, the sun reflects off the snow, and the melting ice drips off trees and buildings onto passerby; days when you can walk outside in a sweatshirt and jeans and feel alive, and think maybe winter isn’t so bad after all.

Jack and I walk across the pier to the Ketchikan Coffee stall, where we buy hot, frothy lattes full of the warm taste of cinnamon. Tastes like Christmas. I spend the day wandering and breathing the air and saying hello to everyone in this tiny town.

I think, in a way, I miss winter. But, God I miss home.




Alaska is full of beautiful Native art.