I could be seriously writing only I have not one, not two, but three grands at my elbows spying on me. Therefore my thoughts are not exactly my own. Smile. Terry and I are on Alaska’s Kenai Peninsula visiting our daughter Brenda and family — five children in all — in their new lake home. The rest of the group is on the deck, lit still at 9 p.m., the smoky sky magnifying the setting sun’s swath across the water.

It’s big news in Alaska — these fires devouring the state. The one affecting us is the Swan Lake Fire. Tonight the road is closed again. Not just any road, but the Sterling Highway — the only land corridor for reaching the thriving communities of Soldotna and Homer. From day to day it’s a toss-up whether the highway will be open.

The evening we came through there was plenty of smoke and some spot fire flames, but no delays, no pilot car with bright lights in zero visibility. Yesterday a single open lane was so hot that paint peeled on cars. The road closed soon after.

It looked pretty quiet driving through Cooper Landing, a small tourism enclave in a “ready status” — hoping the call to “go” will go away. A classmate from Priest River High is a fishing guide there on the famed Kenai River. Gary tells me many bookings are cancelled, but he can still fish the middle and lower Kenai. “I can get most of my things out, but the folks that have homes is what I’m upset about,” says the sourdough bachelor.

This summer’s Alaska adventure began really before we even got here. Brenda called a couple days before our flight. “Mom, I need you and dad to bring up a hedgehog for Matthew (her 10 year old son).” A hedgehog! Who checks those in with their luggage? No one it turns out. We were a first. I’m pleased to say the little guy made it, safely lodged in his kennel.

I’m a loon lover — a scarcity since our move from Alaska 20 years ago. Here there are loons on every lake. The other day a flotilla of eleven glided across the still water — a 3D dream in the morning mist.

I may have been teased for coming to Alaska as much to see and hear the loons as to spend time with the grands. But the same can be said for Terry with his reindeer sausage — an Alaskan staple he’s gone without. So that first day it was breakfast at Gwennie’s, an Anchorage landmark. Outstanding meals — beneath the nose of a well preserved brown bear.

In Alaska some stay, some leave sooner, some leave later. But no one ever forgets.