Alaska, continued! (A story in which, for better or for worse, I find myself back on the Last Frontier)

The Farm is identified by this often-driven-by sign, cleverly hidden by vegetation on the side of Farm Loop Road.
The Farm is identified by this often-driven-by sign, cleverly hidden by vegetation on the side of Farm Loop Road.

Spring Creek Farm sits on the outskirts of Palmer, Alaska, a small, rural community about forty miles north of Anchorage. In the mid-1930s, some two hundred-odd Midwesterners, mostly in their late twenties and early thirties, picked up their families and moved to the Last Frontier as part of Roosevelt’s New Deal. The Matanuska Colony has existed in various incarnations since then, and today, the sleepy township of Palmer is home to just under six thousand people and, still, plenty of dairy cows.

Continue reading “Alaska, continued! (A story in which, for better or for worse, I find myself back on the Last Frontier)”

Wasilla; or, Life in the Woods

Brown pebbles sponsored by Blue Buffalo. Oh, the beer? Don’t worry, it’s New Belgium. Only the best for this guy.

It probably won’t surprise you to learn that here in Wasilla, hometown of Teen Abstinence Ambassador Bristol Palin (wish I were joking), there aren’t a lot of people like us. We’re from Boulder, where people hang Tibetan prayer flags in their yards and feed their pets holistic dog food. It might be a little pretentious, but it’s home, and while I won’t publicly admit that we’re guilty of either of those things, I will tell you that Blue Buffalo holistic dog food isn’t sold at our local Pet Zoo.

Continue reading “Wasilla; or, Life in the Woods”