Alaska moves now into winter.  After such a long and brilliant summer, my heart almost forgot about winter.  An equal entity.  Like good and evil, or male and female.  Summer and winter.

I'm considering the idea of taking more control over my life, and when I consider that, I look at this Alaskan winter as potentially my last.  One more winter, then one more summer, and then goodbye.
It's like jumping out of an airplane:  you go all out, knowing you're safe, and that it won't last forever.

My life, like that of everyone I know, is in a particular stage of senescence.  An early stage, to be sure, and to be hopeful, but, senescence none the less.  My body, my virility, even my mind - these things aren't as sharp as they were a decade ago.  And why should they be?  I don't want to cheat time.  We have our day, and then, that day is over.  And the next day comes.

I think about returning to the southwest and settling there.  Working part-time in primary care.  Having time to sleep in, or stay up late, or drink hot tea leisurely with something to read and my cat; time for mid-week hikes; for three, four, or five day road trips; for hunting; camping; touring; bouldering; piano; photography.  Time for friends, old and new.  And time for a home, for a wife, and for a family? The latter are such giant dreams they are difficult to know.