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Welcome to our little corner of SouthCentral Alaska!

The purpose of this website is threefold:

  • To offer  some very personal insight into the mystique of Alaska, and why it is so unique
  • To chronicle life in a small Alaska town through essays, poetry, and art
  • To help those Outside understand who we are and why we are here

Come in, kick off your shoes and stay awhile...

Last Frontier                                                                       

There's a land up north where the big trees grow
And the mountains, they reach to the skies;
Where the rivers of ice and grand spaces entice
A man to break all southern ties.

Blown on the wind there's a name that I've heard
And it's mine, and I've got to go home
To the heaving gray seas and the salt on the breeze,
And the cliffs, with their faces of stone.

Where solitude sings atop bare, rocky heights,
And in wonder, you feel like a child,
Where the creeks all run cold and the glint of the gold
Sets the heart to runnin’ all wild.

And the mist rambles in at the end of the day,
To fill valley and crevice and nook
Of each gray headed peak where adventurers seek
What they never could find in a book.

So the trail beckons yonder, and onward and up,
Past the cities, and houses of stone,
To that long ago land that the mighty God planned,
Where the midnight sun ever shone.                                                                            
                                                                                                                                                                                                                
With the snow on your face in the cut of the cold,
There your frozen breath’s hung like a cloud;
There the lonesome wolf calls and the shooting star falls,
And the silence speaks ever so loud,

There the northern lights blaze ‘gainst a star- sprinkled sky,
Like a sheet blown about in the wind;
And the time stands right still, leastways until
The winter cold hustles you in.

There's a simple life there in those tall, rugged hills,
Where the cold, lonesome rivers yet flow;
Where the wilderness sings and the loon's call still rings…
Alaska... and I reckon I’ll go...
 

© Kevin M. Reeves 2006