The trees had been planted by some immigrants at the time Alaska belonged to Mother Russia. They were not native to this soil but adapted themselves very well, spreading far and wide across the valley and even proclaimed a natural reserve not so long ago. It now attracts tourists from afar as Siberia and a few dachas are built around its edges although government regulations have prohibited more be built.
Boris looked on this piece of land as if it were his. His ancestors were raised here and their ashes spread across the forest as was their last wish in this world. These mornings Boris woke up particularly early since a long awaited event was to take place at around these dates. Everyone waited for the right temperatures and weather conditions waking up expectantly in search of this long awaited act of nature. During a certain point in time during the early days of march the morning dew gave a delicate scent that locals were very well aware of and kept it a secret so that no brochure ever mentioned it. It was a time when the Atlantic dropped its water inland and the mild winds shook the top of the trees and the early spring warmth pressed the sticky pine oils from its bark. The drizzle made the soil dispel a natural smell that combined with the pine scents, a natural, rich in nature, odor enveloped the whole village for a period of two to three hours depending on the strenght of the sun.
It was during this season that one morning Boris caught eye of a woman. She sat in a position that resembled the Yoga position of Lotus, dressed in a white garb, and on his property. She seemed peaceful and her hair hung loose. Unsure wether to go there and start a conversation, Boris continued looking on until the lady got up. Aware that she was being observed, she turned her head towards Boris and waved from afar a salutatory greeting. Boris waved back but continued where he was as the lady went about her way.