It's snowing like a blizzard and I can't believe people can still drive on the roads and freeways when they're covered in this white fluff that turns icy and you can't see the lines on the road. I haven't done it yet, but intend to approach snow-driving with extreme caution and will avoid it if I can (at least until the roads are groomed - I think it might be snowing for the next 4 months). It's quieter now, and I don't recognise where I am in the city with the white cloak on. The heater in my little apartment is superb, and along with the little home improvements I've been achieving with the help of Brendan the Carpenter, I'm feeling snug enough at home.
On the weekend we drove to Girdwood, a town one hour south of Anchorage that becomes the local Anchorage downhill ski area in wintertime. The lure was a big pot of gumbo and a jam with the band-in-progress-as-yet-unnamed. I am not technically 'in' the band, but struggling with my status as tag-along-girlfriend, and still-student of the Oldtime style. The in-band fiddler sets a good example, and I play along in jams, and will step to the sidelines for gigs. I'm learning.
Meg (mando), Mike (banjo), Karen (bass), Jeff (fids), Nate (guitar)
The freeze is on
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