but the memory of a life well spent is eternal.
~ Cicero



On Saturday, February 21st, friends will be gathering in Fairbanks, Alaska to participate in a 'celebration of life' for Shelly. This will follow a small memorial held by Shelly's family for Minnesota friends and relatives in early December. Shelly envisioned a Fairbanks event that would "give thanks to the friendship and positive force each of the guests have been in my life" (her words), specifically, an evening of sharing stories, memories, and smiles at Musher's Hall. We hope all those who knew Shelly and are able, will attend. Please contact Kalin for details or questions.





the end of January 2008, Heather came for a visit and we did a road trip to the cozy community of Grand Marais, on the north shore of La
ke Superior. Amazing artwork, crashing waves, and beautiful ice covered rocks! Just what the soul needs... a little bit of ocean in the middle of the midwest!

I did several trips out to Vancurlers to fly fish in summer 2007. On the weekend these pictures were taken, my friend Heather flew her Champ up from Anchorage and we took off for the day. There was a lot of casting ...but no catching. Still, it was fun to get the planes out and test our rods on this beautiful stretch of river.

I thought the earth remembered me,
she took me back so tenderly,
arranging her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds.
I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,
nothing between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths
among the branches of the perfect trees.
All night I heard the small kingdoms
breathing around me, the insects,
and the birds who do their work in the darkness.
All night I rose and fell, as if in water,
grappling with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.
thick bird,
a ruffle of fire trailing over the shoulders and down the back—
color of copper, iron, bronze—
lighting up the dark branches of the pine.
What misery to be afraid of death.
What wretchedness, to believe only in what can be proven.
When I made a little sound
it looked at me, then it looked past me.
Then it rose, the wings enormous and opulent,
and, as I said, wreathed in fire.