In a place where seasons vary dramatically and there is much to prepare for each season, many Alaskans feel that we are “always getting ready.”  This is the title of a book that describes the lifestyle of Yup’Ik Eskimos on the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta and their constant preparation for each subsistence activity.  Around my home, I think of that phrase most often in the fall as we prepare for the onset of deep winter, and in the spring when life returns and we must ready ourselves for the busy summer season.

This year, in addition to stacking the firewood, cleaning the chimney, putting up food in the freezer and cupboards, winterizing my truck and swapping the summer clothes for winter boots & parkas, I have another matter of urgency to attend to: closing in my new home.  While there are some hearty souls who do winter construction in Interior Alaska (and who’s working cut-off temperature is usually minus 20 F!), it is generally preferable to get a roof on and get “closed in” before the snow flies and the mercury drops.  This has been my goal all summer long and while I have missed completing this before the first snowfall, I hope to have this stage completed in the next couple of weeks.  Luckily, the building season has been long this year, and our first snow proved only to be a teaser since it was followed by weeks of unseasonably warm fall weather.

The building project occupied most of my waking hours this summer (I took a summer sabbatical from Camp Denali & North Face Lodge to focus on building), and it will continue to be the focus of my weekends until that metal roofing is on.  At that point, I will be able to walk away for a while and go back to the drawing board.  The skeletal structure of the cabin will fall into deep freeze dormancy in the company of the spruce trees around it.  This winter’s projects include reading and learning about wiring, plumbing, interior insulation and air exchange systems for healthy interior air. 

While I call it “my cabin,” I know better than to believe that.  This cabin is the result of many, many hands.  From those who lent their strong backs to clearing large rocks out of the foundation hole, to those who have taken me through some of the more complicated framing aspects, to those who have shared their tools and words of encouragement, to those who have come out on cold, snowy mornings to help raise my timbers--I have learned that it takes a village.  And in this village, we help each other get ready.