Grizzly Mountain - New Project

In Wasilla, Alaska, the backyard is bigger than most kingdoms. Especially when you’re six and three.

“Okay, my little lovelies, the yard is all yours,” Dad says, opening the back door. Cold air rushes in, clean and sharp. “Bundle up. And keep an eye on Rowdy.”

Bitty — that’s Brandy, 6 years old, dark brown hair in a crooked ponytail, fair skin with two smudges of dirt already — salutes. “Aye aye, Captain Dad! Operation Backyard will commence!”

Dassah — Hadassah, 3, dark brown curls bouncing, fair cheeks pink from the cold — holds up her stuffed moose. “Me too, Dada!”

Dad kneels and zips Dassah’s purple coat to her chin. He kisses both their foreheads. “That’s my little lovelies. Stay warm, stay together, and don’t let Captain Bitty talk you into eating icicles again.”

“Those were research icicles,” Bitty says, very dignified.

Rowdy, their Pomeranian-Dachshund mix, shoots out the door like a furry cannonball, ears flapping.

The second the door clicks shut, Bitty stomps her boot. “Alright, Dassah. This isn’t a backyard anymore.” She sweeps her arm wide. “This is the Wild North! We are brave explorers, and that pile of firewood? That’s Grizzly Mountain.”

Dassah’s eyes go huge. “Gwizzly Mountain?”

“Super dangerous,” Bitty whispers. “But we have to cross it to get to the Frozen River.” She points at the snow-packed path Dad shoveled yesterday. “Rowdy will be our sled dog. Rowdy! Mush!”

Rowdy looks at her, sits down, and starts licking his paw.

Bitty sighs. “Fine. He’s on a snack break. Explorers, move out!”

They trek through knee-deep snow. Dassah clomps behind Bitty, clutching Moose and copying every step. When Bitty crawls, Dassah crawls. When Bitty army-rolls, Dassah plops onto her tummy and giggles.

“Report, Explorer Dassah,” Bitty says, peeking over a snowdrift. “Do you see any snow snakes?”

Dassah shakes her head hard, curls flying. “No snake. Only cold.”

“Good. Snow snakes hate the cold,” Bitty declares with total confidence. “That means we’re safe. For now.”

Halfway up “Grizzly Mountain,” Rowdy gets distracted by a squirrel and disappears behind the woodpile. A second later: yip yip yip!

Dassah freezes. “Wody stuck!”

Bitty’s face gets serious. That’s the thing about Bitty — she’s funny enough to make Dad snort milk, but when Dassah needs her, she’s all business. “Don’t worry, Explorer Dassah. I’m the best rescuer in Alaska.”

She scales the firewood, slips, catches herself, and announces, “See? That was a tactical slide. Very advanced.”

Behind the pile, Rowdy’s leash is looped around a log. He’s not stuck, just… tangled by choice. Bitty untwists him while Dassah cheers.

“You saved him!” Dassah throws her arms around Bitty’s snowy legs.

“Of course,” Bitty says, brushing off her knees. “That’s what sisters do. We protect each other. It’s the Lovely Law.”

“Lovey Law!” Dassah repeats, proud.

They make it to the “Frozen River” and declare it Base Camp. Bitty packs snow into a bowl. “This is our explorer stew. Ingredients: one pinecone, three icicles, and a leaf Rowdy found.”

Dassah scrunches her nose. “Yucky.”

“Exactly,” Bitty says. “If it’s yucky, the snow snakes won’t steal it.”

They hear the back door open. Dad steps onto the porch with two mugs of real hot cocoa and a blanket.

“Dispatch from Headquarters,” he calls. “Two little lovelies reported to be freezing their toes off. Is that true?”

Dassah runs to him first and buries her face in his coat. “Dada! We cross Gwizzly Mountain! Bitty save Wody!”

Dad wraps the blanket around both of them. His hands are warm and steady. Bitty and Dassah are both fair skinned, but right now their cheeks and noses are cherry red, and their dark brown hair is frosted with snowflakes. Beautiful little lovelies, through and through.

“Well,” Dad says, handing over the cocoa, “sounds like you two had quite a morning. Keeping each other warm? Making each other laugh?”

“Always,” Bitty says, then takes a sip and gets a whipped cream mustache. She points at Dad. “You, sir, have been promoted to Head Cocoa Officer.”

Dad laughs, deep and easy. “I’ll take it. As long as I get to keep my two little lovelies safe.”

Dassah leans against Bitty, and Bitty leans against Dad, and Rowdy squeezes between all their boots. The wind picks up, but inside the blanket it’s warm.

“Tomorrow,” Bitty announces, “we’re building a snow fort. It’s gonna be called Castle Lovely.”

“Lovey Castle!” Dassah claps.

Dad smiles into his cocoa. “With my little lovelies in charge, I’d say Alaska isn’t ready.”