sight seeing

whitehorse, last winter, the morning sun finally rising, sometime around 11:00 am 

some find the darkness difficult but I have always loved it... dark, cozy mornings where you can take your time to face the day

on my way there again, tomorrow

a settled feeling drapes over me as I step on Yukon soil and look out at a landscape I know in my bones 

and I am home again

there's a long list of places I want to be

 things to think about

photos to take

there's a hankering to spend time by the river, watching the current swirl across the surface

and another to think about the flotilla that set sail from Lake Bennett to Dawson City in late May of 1898

I'm completely taken with the sails, the shape of them, the varying sizes, the mast down the centre line - some were made out of cotton duck, many were patched together from whatever fabric could be obtained

most of all I'm looking forward to the trees

I want to draw trees this time, the tall skinny trees that captivate me 

it's their scrubby resilience that inspires me, the crooked and twisted forms that battle to live 

a true embodiment of the north

and then there are the ravens

I used to think they were the peskiest of birds but now I rather like their antics

so trees and ravens, perhaps a raven in a tree, though that's a rather uncommon sight up there if I remember correctly - you usually see them on the ground

and something with the sails...