Okay, there may be a few places, but:

Where else would our hackles rise as we hurry past a grazing moose?

Where else could we hear, from our porch, a wolfpack singing songs of the hunt?

Where else could we see bald eagles launch from the branches of a cottonwood?

Where else do lengthening days reel us closer to midnight salmon fishing?

Where else would we wonder if a grizzly and her cubs will visit us this year?

Where else could the sight of the ocean jar loose 30 years of Alaska memories?

(Dog mushing, building cabins ,skiing, snowshoeing, butchering-up moose meat, whale watching, gardening, mountain-biking, barbecuing, 4x4ing, boating and raising chickens, geese, cats, puppies, and three sons)?

Where else would Grandpa and Grandma race to the “midwife barn,” (in Wasilla) hoping to beat the arrival of a grandchild: 14 TIMES? (Oh, I forgot. One little girl was born at our old homeplace here.)

It’s finally April! And ice still veneers the trails and pavement.

On our slippery walks sometimes we holler “Whoops!” and grab for one another’s elbow, but we won’t put off strolling Birchwood Loop anymore–laughing and remembering, praying and planning…

Where else?