Oh, sigh. Elise, Scott and I (Sky Gathering-- what do you think?) played tonight at the Taproot. It was good. We were pretty good, and it was nice to play with those folks, to see other good people, to hear some good music.

It was sad though. Being in Anchorage, particularly on that end of town with those people, is not the same without Blake. I miss him every day, here. And it got a little unbearable recently until I realized that I am trying hard to make a good place for myself here, to grow in a good way, but at the same time not letting myself talk or think much about Blake. Which is ridiculous and impossible. I want to remember him as much as I can, to be thankful (so thankful), to remind myself and anybody else who will listen what a fine human being he was.

So here's a small Blake story: Last summer when he and I were hiking in Kennecott, backpacking to a camping spot by the glacier, it was getting dusk-ish (pretty late!) and I was scared of bears. There were lots and lots of bushes on either side of the trail and we couldn't see much around us, and we were supposedly in big time bear country. So Blake spent just about the entire time (hours) singing and talking to the bears to let them know our whereabouts-- "Heeeeey, bear. Hey, bear! Don't you come this way, bear. Uh-uh." etc., and he made me do bearspray trial runs, and kept Cayuse close. I think we were also talking about music theory. We finally got to an o.k. spot to camp, but spent another half hour or so, in great Blake-like fashion, gathering branches and moving rocks to make the ground level and soft enough to put the tent on. (He was never hurried, took time to make things right, was prepared, took care of us.)We woke up the next morning with an incredible view of the glacier, ate breakfast and sat in the sun and read out loud about soybeans. On the way back we crossed over a creek, and Blake quietly asked me to stop, because he knew that Cayuse was probably thirsty but wouldn't stop to drink unless we did, too.