ADVENTURES WITH YENTA

A friend here recently broke her leg…the diagnosis was a spiral fracture to her right fibula requiring a soft cast and no weight bearing until it heals, hopefully within the next six weeks.  I knew that she’d fallen on the ice several times since winter began.  When I talked with her after hearing about her break, she shared that she fell and sprained her ankle several weeks ago, most likely causing a hairline fracture.  This latest fall on her stairs compounded the injury, completing the fracture.  I was able to look at the x-rays with her and the nurse practitioner and could feel how encouraged she was to see some healing taking place even after a week and a half. 

It’s challenging altering life in Barrow to accommodate crutches and relative immobility.  Plus there is the fear of falling again with having much less stability.  It’s been heartwarming to see how co-workers have volunteered to help on many levels.  My friend spoke about how difficult it's been to accept the outpouring of offers.  She's extremely grateful though, knowing that without help, she wouldn’t be able to stay.  Someone picks her and her crutches up every morning and takes her home each evening, she is able to use offices downstairs in the building she works in, rotating from week to week to use the space of people who are on leave or on a village trip.  One of her friends checks her mail, someone does her grocery shopping, several take her for drives on the weekends so cabin fever is held somewhat at bay. 

I have the best job of all though, taking Yenta, her husky, for long evening walks.  After trekking or biking to work and back every day, my evenings are normally spent at home resting, reading, catching up on email, etc.  Now, I have a date who is as anxious to be out as I am to take her.  We’ve explored the tundra south of the middle school, walked to the new hospital that is under construction on the Browerville side of the community and onto the lagoon where the remnants of the ice sculptures from Piuraagiaqta sit in the sun.  Having her company has been a joy and I find myself laughing as I give up determination to go in one direction when she seems more determined to go in another.  The only challenge I’ve encountered is not remembering to bring plastic bags—they’re not something I normally carry on my walks alone.  I’ve found myself hoping that she’ll “hold it” until we return to my friend’s house but this invariably doesn’t happen, so with bag in hand, I retrace my steps and sometimes find what I’m looking for, helping to keep the Barrow landscape free of traces of Yenta and me.   

The pictures of Yenta’s and my walks were taken close to 8 pm with the sun still high in the sky.  They could have easily been taken before 8 am when it is equally as sunny though.  What a beautiful and amazing place.   

Yenta is tethered outside in the morning and evening to enjoy the fresh air, but during a recent visit, I learned that she appeared to be depressed at being in the house all day while my friend was at work.  The weather is warmer now, so she could potentially stay outside if the heap of snow that had drifted into her pen was removed.  It would be unsafe to leave her tethered to the house as she might fall prey to a rabid fox or a stray dog who was looking for a fight. 

Saturday found me happily bundled in my five layers of winter gear as although it was sunny, the temperature and wind combined to make it a subzero day.  The shovel I asked to use was leaning against the house when I arrived and an offer of a hot cups of tea at any time was tucked in the back of my mind.  I loved the shoveling and it took just under two hours to give Yenta back the freedom of her pen.  Something about the snow makes me laugh…it’s such a pure white and sparkles back at you, sort of like God's love does, I imagine, with no conditions.   There is no judgment in the snow, nothing to bring up a negative thought, only an open invitation to enjoy its beauty.  I can hear it expressing, “why be so glum…there’s a lot of fun to be had here!” should a person feel tempted to despair in the presence of a snow drift on a sunny day, at least the ones here in Barrow, far from things that make snow in some situations dangerous. 

The large, white chunks were compact so I could lift and heave the equivalent of three shovel fulls in one over the fence making the work less time consuming.  After a half hour, I felt as though I couldn’t keep my Gortex and fleece on for a minute longer and took long drinks of the almost frozen water from my bottle.  Forty minutes later, my polyester jacket was sitting with them on my bike as well and soon my down jacket was laying on the top of the pile.  Shoveling in my light running jacket, hat and gloves, I was able to finish the job and give Yenta her first tour. 

I was concerned that she might jump on her dog house and over the fence onto the new mound that had been transported there, but found that her chain wasn’t long enough and my friend assured me that she wasn’t given to this sort of adventure.  I was grateful as the thought of redistributing the large heap left me feeling a bit weary.  Hot tea, a long stimulating and enjoyable conversation with my friend, interrupted only by occasional howls from Yenta, who wanted in and then out, made for a relaxing and nice end of a great afternoon.  

Aside from my short-lived need to shed my layers, it has occurred to me that one of the reasons I enjoy the cold here in Barrow is that it provides many opportunities to be encased in heavy clothing.  It gives one a sense of security somehow.  The movie Temple Grandin crosses my mind where a young woman with a limiting neurological condition, but a brilliant mind, discovers that the mechanism used to calm cattle by mechanically swaddling them for branding also calms her.  I wonder if this is related to an infant being wrapped snugly in a blanket…so maybe a basic human need?  I love being back in Alaska where the elements are invigorating and one has reason to dress warmly. 

I imagine by spring that I will be anxious to give up at least one layer and my long johns, at least on warmer days.  Bertrand tells me that he wears the same gear in the summer that he does in the winter, except that he unzips his coat.