Nursing in Barrow

Last spring, my friend Carolyn, in Edmonds, Washington told me about a Tower Garden that she and her family had, growing prolific amounts of leafy greens and tomatoes on their deck, all without dirt.    We strategized for several weeks about the feasibility of my successfully using one here in my apartment in Barrow.    The cost of the non-organic vegetables sold in the store here are high and organic ones that can be ordered often arrive wilted and spoiled.    I calculated that the cost of the Tower Garden, tomato cage and lights that I’d need would pay for itself in about a year while providing high quality, nutrient dense greens.   The garden was developed by Tim Blank, a man who grew up farming in the Midwest, had a passion for learning and wanted everyone to have the opportunity to grow fresh vegetables no matter what their living space.  Tim worked and learned as Epcot Center’s greenhouse manager prior to founding Future Growing....

It’s enjoyable thinking about experiencing some of the same sorts of adventures that my father did while he was here in Barrow.   In talking with him, things have changed quite a bit over the years and I imagine that it might feel like a bit of a metropolis to him now compared to the very small village it was when he was here.   He and Mom took a trip around the world earlier this year and   I found myself wishing that their ship was following a northern route and about how interesting it would be to experience Barrow together after all these years.   Dad, with a hearty laugh on the telephone, assured me that they were seeking much warmer temperatures than can be found here at any time of year.      Dad learned to fly airplanes when he was a young man growing up in southern California.  He was fascinated with flying as a small boy and being driven, even then, to reach his goals, was a constant presence at the local airport.  He and anoth...

My friend, Carrie Plant, the Infant Learning Program Specialist who was in Kaktovik during the same week I was, took these pictures at the whale bone yard.  I've already posted ones that look like Nanooks but wanted to share these as well for their surreal quality.

I had a little bit of heavy heart as I lifted my bike frame into the large dumpster outside my apartment building.   I’d ridden it, including wheels and tires, almost every day since buying it from a friend in April and had loved our adventures on the ice, snow and muddy pot-holed roads here in Barrow.   I’m guilty of being an irresponsible bike owner though, this becoming very apparent several weeks ago when I could feel a curious, not easy to pin point, sort of resistance while pedaling--something I hadn’t felt before.   A day earlier  it had ridden like a dream. In self-defense, there are no car washes in Barrow, and no hoses outside of apartment buildings or homes where one might wash a bike.  Mine had been caked in mud for some time.  I’d managed to keep the chain oiled, but outside of this small bit of maintenance, had not done anything else.  I’d planned on bringing it into my shower for a good washing after the ground froze and the snow co...

I was at the school in Kaktovik on Thursday afternoon offering flu shots to the staff there.  Mid conversation with some of the teachers in the lounge, we heard excited announcements that a whale had just been caught and that the whaling crews would be bringing it into shore soon.  Kaktovik is allotted three whales a year by the Whaling Commission, based on the size of their community, just under 250 residents.  They’d gotten two small whales, just over 29 and just over 27 feet during the past two weeks and were hopeful this week to catch their final one of the season, allowing for time to harvest and store it before winter comes.  School normally lets out at 3:30 pm, but because whaling is a community event, it closed soon after the announcement.  People donned parkas, boots and gloves and left quickly for the beach to help the crews and their families.  I left the near-empty school with my immunization bag and walked to the small post office wh...