It’s avalanche season in the Perseverance Basin. The little dog and I hear the thunderstorm drama of two but don’t turn back. We’ve chosen a route that avoids the run outs of their chutes. It still startles to hear the ripping, crack of thunder sound of a winter’s buildup of snow breaking away from Mt. Juneau. Today the smaller snowfalls we see quickly diminish to cascades that sound like loose gravel falling down a drainpipe.

It’s also early spring. The forest ground, now freed of its overburden of snow, seems to exhale. It’s breath smells faintly of mold, dirt, and the resin of fallen spruce needles.