Every year in Homer (as of 6 years ago, anyway), a group of artists gets together and creates a basket on the Homer Spit. A really big basket. After decorating it with art, photos, ribbons, lists of thoughts/wishes/memories/slogans/etc. and having a meal, they burn it to the ground and have a party.
Welcome to Homer’s Burning Basket celebration. BYOD (bring your own drum), BYOFDE (bring your own fire dancing equipment), no dogs or alcohol allowed.
One of my pictures even made it on the front of the Tribune this past week: Fire Dance
After a year and a half in Alaska, Ashlee finally met a porcupine. This morning, just before leaving for work, I took the dogs out for their morning potty break. Both dogs immediately heard/smelled something in the fireweed that surrounds the yard, and ran towards it. I didn’t see or hear anything, but managed to pull Macgee back on his leash. Ashlee wasn’t on a leash, and emerged from the bushes seconds later with a face full of quills. A trip to the vet, some sedation and a steady hand later, and she’s no worse for the experience.
Hopefully she’ll think twice before investigating further strange rustlings in the brush, but I won’t hold my breath.