<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d33206271\x26blogName\x3dThe+Fine+Art+of+Falling+Apart\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dTAN\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://fineartoffallingapart.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://fineartoffallingapart.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d6081200608643811586', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>


This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

I woke up scared, in my bed last night. A bad dream that made me sleep the remaining hour with the lights on, and missing another body in the house so bad.

Helicopters are constantly thundering above my head, lately. I feel as though I'm in some sort of military state where flights are the norm and that I ought to be expecting soldiers to slowly re-enter the community like lost brothers. But the town has been quiet lately, a lot of people have left to inhabit their summer camps and enjoy being 'out on the land'.

It's just me and helicopters, I suppose. It's such an odd sound to hear...one would expect it to be very quiet.

I've been rather ambitious the past few days. Yesterday I decided to venture out on the land and get some photos of flowers and things that are growing. I was eagerly anticipating the growth of a common flower in the arctic called Arctic Cotton.

They resemble cotton balls on sticks, the flower itself feels and also looks like white rabbit fur blowing in the wind.
arctic cotton 3

Then today, I decide I am going to find someone to give or sell me an Arctic Char which is a common fish and also considered a delicacy around the world. I'm not normally a fish person, the best I can usually do is tuna from a can, or maybe perch or halibut. Something that doesn't taste fishy, which sort of defeats the purpose, right? So, I was driving all over trying to figure out who were regularly fished, and who might want to part with a fresh one that I can cook for dinner tonight. A friend gave me two idiot-proof recipes, and I was anxious to try it.

The thing about the north is that nothing comes in a tidy little package. I ended up coming home with this gigantic fish in a grocery bag, with his head still attached. At least his innards had been cleaned. At least, I think I was supposed to leave the main blood line in there...eep.
my arctic char

So, I chopped off the head, it's sitting in the sink right now. I was planning on taking it over to one of the sled dog teams that are posted on the outskirts of the village, but one head for 7 dogs doesn't really make any sense. So it will likely end up in the trash. I can't stop looking at it's eye balls. I feel as though I want to keep it around for awhile, like a little friend.
fish head

I made some steaks, I guess you could call them and saved those for tomorrow (in the event this evening's dish turns to disaster) and the other half of the fish is currently wrapped in tinfoil and being baked in the oven. I seasoned it with salt and pepper, some garlic (because I like garlic), a tad bit of olive oil and wrapped it up and tossed it in there. The only thing is...umm, well, I couldn't get the tail fin off because my knives are crappy, and the tinfoil wasn't long enough, so it's sticking out of the pan. Clearly, and this should be no surprise to you, this is an amateur job.

Hopefully, that won't hurt the cooking of the rest of the fish.

And for the first time, I touched the water that was the ocean. Salty water on my tongue.
closest ocean

And it just amazes me, the view from the shore of my melting ocean...
the shore Fox Basin

Labels: , , , , , ,

You can leave your response or bookmark this post to del.icio.us by using the links below.
Comment | Bookmark | Go to end