Back home in the grey, I walk with Aki on a North Douglas trail. Last night at the airport, the little dog acted happy that I had returned after 12 days at writer’s school in Anchorage. She might be the better friend. I had little time to think about her during my residency.

This morning she trots along ahead of me like she did on every previous visit to this rainforest. Juneau has defaulted to grey, a color it wears well. Drops of last night’s rain hang from every leaf, berry and display of chicken of the woods fungi. The orange and red mushrooms have sprouted on rotting spruce trees.

While I miss my friends from writer’s school and all the chances to learn some skills, I don’t miss the Anchorage traffic noise that provided background for my daily trips through Anchorage’s birch forests. Here, except for low-pitched airplane growl of Beavers hauling tourists to the Admiralty Island bear watching stands, no machine noise completes with the songs of animals, from eagles to squirrels.