Friends – Yea Yea Pueblo

I knew I missed Arizona, but I didn’t realize how much I missed Arizona. Our first stop after leaving the Phoenix airport was to head to Filibertos for a breakfast burrito, but forgetting their monstrous size was a wasteful, rookie mistake. Full, and tired from the early morning journey from Austin, we made the sluggish commute in an unfamiliar rental car through the desert, then ponderosa forest, enjoying the changing biodiversity en route to Flagstaff.

After moving to Texas almost three years ago our environment has been limited to humid hill country, with sprawling live oak trees and oppressive heat, lacking in the sharp peaks and valleys that we had grown accustomed to in Washington, Alaska, and Arizona. I’ve grown fond of my life in Texas, with friends and neighborhood familiarity, a good library job and routine, but I’m out of contact with the outdoors and it pains me. I feel unmoored. We try to get out of town to neighboring cities for concerts, festivals and outings, but overcompensating with cultural activities isn’t grounding in any meaningful way. So we’ve traveled further away to inspire awe.

While living in Texas we have had the privilege of visiting London, Dublin and New York City, and none of them, with all their treasures, heritage, and architectural mastery, have matched the natural beauty of Arizona. As much as I love a good museum in a major city, nothing beats gawking at a 1 mile-wide meteor crater with friends, or a gondola ride to the top of a mountain in Flagstaff with the sweet, excited children you’ve known since birth. A hot trek around Sedona for an aura reading with your best girls is sometimes exactly what is needed to achieve balance. Clutching selenite in a mineral shop to clear blocked energy sometimes works!!

Perhaps what I’ve been missing most are the deep connections we’ve built with dear friends over the years, connections that are severed when we receive orders. As a military spouse, I’ve quietly grieved the loss of roots and long-term community for nearly 12 years. I surrendered my stability to support a service member and the consequences of that decision continue to challenge my concept of place and belonging, and they’re beginning to do the same to my children. It can be very painful. But in a period of doubt and insecurity for us all, there is no better way to restore balance than to return to a place that brings joy, inspires awe, and fosters connection to dear friends. Even if just for a four-day. Thank you Arizona, and Austins!

Wild Blueberry - Fairbanks, Alaska Wild Blueberry Picking - Fairbanks, Alaska Wild Blueberries Alaska When we lived in Washington, the blackberries were plentiful. I mean they were everywhere. They were considered a nuisance for property owners and like the piled up tumbleweeds of the southwest, they were the hallmark of a neglected parcel of land. On road sides and on empty lots, we wrangled our way through the thorny brush to pluck the seedy wild berries so Isaac could snack on them, and I could can them. We even had them in ice cream.

Alaska has its own wild berry abundance, we’ve discovered. My good friend Jena found a great spot about 30 minutes outside of Fairbanks where she and her family have collected about 6 gallons of blueberries to date. Jena is a self-proclaimed berry-picking addict. After she and her family have their fill of blueberry crumbles, she plans to freeze her bounty for smoothies and treats throughout the year.

095A8133 We didn’t collect nearly as many blueberries as the Smiths, probably because I had a difficult time navigating the boggy terrain with a larger than normal body, leaky rain boots, or some other pregnancy-related excuse.

Margot was content to ride in her backcountry carrier, but preferred to hang out in the boggy terrain with her main squeeze Gavyn. They’re the most sickeningly adorable toddler duo in town, Jena and I are convinced. They sat and munched on berries while the adults harvested. And we were all diligent in scanning the landscape for the grizzly who allegedly lives in the valley on the other side of the hill. No sightings, fortunately.

095A8144 Wild Blueberry Picking - Fairbanks, Alaska The land we were on had endured wildfires some time ago, leaving the dry, spindly trees to slowly rot. Some had already begun their slow descent to the lush ground cover below.

Recent rainfall had pooled in the lower lying areas, making the entire area an ankle-deep pond, with the exception of a few dry, grassy knolls. Mosquitos were of course everywhere, biting any flesh exposed to the open air. My hands have already swollen enough to exclude me from wearing my wedding ring. Swelling is the only way my body handles mosquito bites these days.

Poor Margot has two bites just below her left eye that have her looking like she was in a boxing match, with a few red rash-like bites around her neckline. She hasn’t had any issues with bites this summer so far, but Fairbanks seems to have a cloud of mosquitos over it at all times; we’re all sitting ducks when we head outdoors and it’s inevitable that the mosquitos will bite.

I’ll likely cook my blueberry bounty into a syrup and can the surplus so we can have blueberry syrup swirled into ice cream, onto pancakes, or baked into bread as a sweet reminder of the summer bounty.