A great contrast--a dichotomy in nature--presents itself to inhabitants of my land. Wildnerness paints itself in darkness and in brightness, in shadows and in rainbows--depending on the season. Unforgiving mountainous stretches, not bulldozers and contractors, act as community developers of my land. Rocky peaks and valleys are elusive in winter months; shadowed beneath coverings of simultaneously virginal and cruel, cold white; land epitomies of 'The Odyssey's' Sirens; portraying such foreboding beauty as to inspire the works of artists and poets from the corners of the world; their beauty meant to behold and not to inhabit.
Transformation occurs at epic levels in summer months. Harshly carved bodies of water fill with thriving nature and people. Plant and animal life spring up like soldiers, wily and rebellious. Fireweed, as bright and life-giving as those wood stove lanterns in the dead of winter, welcome visitors and travelers and transients alike. No manicured road medians exist in my land; only wildlife and litter, picked apart by witty ravens. Residents adopt the same theories of survival applied by wildlife for centuries; the same secrets known to trees and animals and the successful, unfettered return of color and life in Spring. The people here are as resilient as the fireweed, the martin, the raven and the moose. We adapt to our surroundings, observe the importance of elements, and appreciate goodness gained through the experience of a humbling winter period.
My land holds secrets of ancestors, natural resources, and life. My land is Alaska.
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