dilly-dally

It is currently -13°F at 10:00 am.  We're seeing some of the coldest temperatures on record in Anchorage of late.  The upside is how sunny it has been.  The downside is that it's uncomfortably cold to go for a neighborhood stroll even with multiple layers, thick socks in thick boots, an ear-covering hat, fleece scarf, shin-length down coat, and snow pants that loudly swish with each step.  A few months back, a cow moose gave me a look while wearing said snow pants.  As if to say "darn, lady.  Those pants are ridiculously noisy!" 

Winter lingers on.  Or you could say it is dilly-dallying along.  As this season does in Alaska.  An email in my inbox today suggested March is the time to start prepping your garden for spring planting.  Well, our garden is under several feet of snow and will remain so for many weeks to come.  I suppose I can daydream about it for now.  Imagine how our ferns will start out as tightly curled fiddleheads that will later unfurl into tall and wide explosions of green.  Wonder what annuals will be available to buy come June.  Hope that a local nursery has another great crop of geraniums in every hue to plop into pots.  

Meanwhile, we will get out when temps allow us to explore and move.  Last week at the spot above - Baxter Bog - we saw loads of Black-capped Chickadees and Black-billed Magpies, several sets of animal tracks, and a few heaps of moose scat.  It was a gorgeous day, and it was around 30° warmer than this morning.  Today feels more like an indoors kind of day.  Letter writing, laundry, baking, and lots of hot beverages kind of day.

grey days

Today I woke up wishing for clear sidewalks and streets, paths in the woods without crusty snow, ice and mud.  In other words, I feel like walking.  Wandering somewhere with no goal in mind other than to be outdoors, to inhale fresh air and to not mind that the sky and ground are the same color of washed out grey/white.  

Tomorrow is December first which means we have roughly four to five months of winter ahead of us.  Today, I am already over this season.  When we begin to gain more minutes of daylight after the solstice, perhaps I'll have more positive feelings about it.  But today....I am missing milder weather.

it's a cool, cool summer

Not a Bananarama cruel, cruel summer.  But a thus far cool, cool summer.  June 4th, and it's only 48° F outdoors.  I'm ready for a warm up.  Not hot weather, mind.  I never desire hot weather.  I would, however, like to stop wearing thick winter socks and sleeping with multiple blankets.  'Tis Alaska, I know, but geez.

Who isn't complaining about the cool weather?  Our garden perennials and annuals.  They seem to be thriving.  There's the bright spot in temperatures being ten-ish degrees below "normal."  

knocking about

 

of late

 

hibernal

November second, and already twenty-two inches of snow has fallen on Anchorage.  Today we broke trail through somewhat compressed snow that was nearly to our knees so we could wander through a favorite patch of wilderness.  I joked that I was the lead bison as I made my way forward, imagining how tiring it must be to shovel snow from side to side with a heavy head just to get to something edible.  I am certain that my perseverance and stamina would cease long before a bison's would.  

There are no free-roaming wild bison in Anchorage, but we did see plenty of tracks made by much smaller critters.  Mice?  Voles?  Squirrels?  A fox?  We also saw a small spider making its way across the snow.  A few Black-billed Magpies were nearby so we encouraged the little arachnid to make haste lest it become a snack.  Hope it reached its destination safely.

 

We were glad to have mild conditions (32 F with a light breeze) to enjoy the wintry sky and landscape.

landskein

Landskein: The weaving and braiding of horizon lines, often seen on hazy days in hill country, where the outlines of several hills or mountains are visible, each paler than the last. ‘Skein’ means a length of yarn or thread, or a flock of wild geese or swans in flight.

I'm not sure how this happened.  I made it to my late 40s without knowing that this word existed.  The phenomenon I've known for as long as I've admired mountain views.  Only a few years ago, however, did I learn the word for it.  I discovered it while reading an Orion magazine article written by contributor Leah Tyus back in September of 2020. 

It is an evocative, emotional, spiritual, and ethereal read that makes connections between observing birdlife and seeing human behavior.  It's about how our lives were changed considerably in 2020 by covid, by watching a Black man murdered by police officers, by seeing and hearing a white woman weaponize her privilege toward a Black man who simply insisted she follow the rules, by recognizing nature, seemingly in its many forms, can be brutal and ruthless while also being beautiful and affirming.  Some words provoke, in the best way -  interpretation, multiplicity, unraveling, unfamiliar, narratives, witnessed without judgement.  I can't do it justice with my humble review.  So just go read it.  Soak it in.  Embrace the language - lilting, and at times, quite poetic.  And think about her message.