Aki and I are not getting along. Maybe she overheard me speaking about today’s hike with her other human. At the time the driving roads were bare of snow. I told the other human I would drive Aki and I to a little used trail out the road. Then the snow started.

            By the time we were ready to leave, four inches of fresh snow covered the car and the road we would have to use to get the car out of town. The continuing storm brought beauty by dumping even more snow on the roads. I knew that the little dog and I would be better off walking on the Juneau streets rather than challenging the snowy roads in the car. After we left the house, the little dog pouted and poodled her way down the snowy hill to town. 

Some Sundays, when wet, wispy clouds cling to the Douglas Mountain Ridge but refuse to release the day’s predicted dump of rain, Aki and I wrap up in winter gear and walk down to the humpback whale statute. It provides a target for birds and people, and a passage for the poodle to search for scent. 

            The big iron whale statute flies nose-first out of a tiny people park, looking out of place so near the Douglas Island Bridge, state office buildings, and cheap-by-the-week apartments. After giving the whale a quick glance, Aki and start across a wooden walkway. We are alone except for a small gang of ravens. Most are jumpy. But one, perhaps one of ravens that nests in our neighborhood, doesn’t react negatively as we walk past it. It just turns calmly in our direction and nods.  

Aki and I are home after a whippy walk through Downtown Juneau. It was a morning for  appreciating the black and white shapes of neighborhood trees and mountains. Except for one dense strip of Franklin Street loaded with bars and homeless folks waiting for lunch, we saw little until we walked onto the downtown cruise ship dock.

            Gulls lined the dock railings in a posture similar to that of the hungry pre-lunch crowd over at the homeless shelter. But one raven landed near us. It waddled across a decorative, if tiny piece of grass, stopping often to scream out a complaint. On this low-light winter day, all the screaming photos I took of it were blurred. But twice, the crusty gull moved until I could clearly see its profile and froze so my camera could capture the wild-bird distain it had with town on this wind-blown day.

“Aki. How long has it. Been since snow whitened our street?” The little dog ignores the question. She’s too busy following a new scented trail. We are heading towards sea level where this time of winter the lights along the cruise ship dock are always burning. 

            There is no wind to confuse the snowflakes. The resulting white cloud softens the abrupt edges of office buildings. It feels like we are trapped in a rich person’s snow globe. 

            The usual cloud of ravens is waiting for us when we arrive on the dock. A few minutes ago, Aki threw on the brakes so I am carrying her in my parka-covered arms. This seems to have upset the ravens, who circle around us a few times before gathering around a snow covered tree. Some seemed to be flirting. Others pouting. One roosts high in the tree to resolve any disputes.