Hi everyone! The summer has been kicked of and I am glad to
be back in blogger-land.
This weekend Fairbanks had the pleasure of hosting the
8th annual Clucking Blossom Festival with free music, free food,
free fun and lots of happy hippies. The weather has been amazing in true
Fairbanks May style: 25 C (77 F) and so dry that open fires have already been
prohibited in the interior Alaska. Kizmet played at the festival and it was
with nervous steps that we went on stage as this was the first time we have
performed outside the safe darkness of the Marlin. It was a pleasure, in the sun, with James running sound and lots of friendly faces around. Later in the
evening the local fire spinning group performed as well as local hip hop stars
Phineas Gauge and Rockabilly hipsters Avery Wolves. It was the perfect
beginning of the summer only slightly disturbed by the enthusiastic mosquitoes
who were eating away at us. Alaskan mosquitoes are NOT like the mosquitoes I
know from Europe. They are twice as big and fly really slow so you think that
you can see them coming and wave them off. That is not the case. Somehow once
they smell you they become relentless and waving them off is just an invitation
for them to come back. If you actually manage to wave them of that is, because they are also
quite skilled in dodging your wave. You move on to try and smack them to the
ground but they are so big and sturdy that that does not have an effect either.
The only way to get rid of them is to kill them by clasping your hands together
or – if only one hand is free – grasp them in your fist and squeeze. That is
quite the art and one has to practice to become a talented mosquito grasper. I
have also bought a very large mosquito net for my bed and now enjoy standing next
to someone who smokes when twilight sets in.
Two friends from Scotland have set up camp in our yard for the summer and I am enjoying having people around the house. The garden has turned green within the last week and it is a jungle of birch trees and raspberry bushes outside my door. I went to buy garden soil the other day, which consists of bringing a truck to this huge pile of soil and a loader (A great discussion of what a loader is and how it is called a digger in Britain has broken out in the living room as I am writing this), that dumps soil in your truck and then you're off. Result: broccoli, pumpkins, zucchini, beets, potatoes, and onions have been planted.
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