I am starting to take Anchorage’s sub-arctic sun for granted. The last few mornings, it has brought richness to the forest colors. But it can’t reach the half-a-dozen sockeye salmon malingering in an eddy a few feet away. It hasn’t robbed the stream water of the power to obscure the big fishes’ red and greed coloring. I feel isolated in the good way you feel isolated when in forest solitude. Then, the beep-beep-beep of a garbage truck shatters the illusion. The water must obscure sound as well as color because the salmon don’t react to the intrusion.