We’ve tipped into the liminal stage of breakup here in Southcentral Alaska. The light is all spring but the ground is something else entirely. Winter has started to let go though it’s by no means gone. There’s still a ton of snow in the mountains (and backyards), bears remain (mostly) tucked away, and the forecast still threatens some wintry mix here and there. But temperatures are trending slowly upward. (The freezing up at night and defrosting by midday does make for some treacherous walking.) Here in Anchorage, that means roads are pockmarked with potholes. Drive too fast and you send small lakes of dirty water hurtling toward the sidewalk. This is a tough season to be a pedestrian in Anchorage. (Really, there’s never a great time to have to rely on Anchorage sidewalks.)
As the snow and ice melt away, they leave mud and muck. Arctic entries—the northern version of mudrooms—are coated with gritty dirt. There’s a lot of sweeping. There’s no way to keep dogs clean. The moose look done. (Tall as they may be, it’s not easy spending the winter tromping through the snow in search of willow branches and other roughage.) But the sun sticks around for a few more minutes each day and, soon enough, summer frenzy will take over. We go from snow to melt to kapow. My beloved wild irises will spring up along the short lake trail at the park I walk daily. Talk of foraging and fishing and hiking and camping and and and and will be…everything.
Over the last few weeks, the trees slowly shed the snow they wore all winter. As wind and snow cleared the treetops, the left-behind was quite a sight: lumpy snowballs tucked into the crook of branches or tiny sheets of snow that were determined to hang on for a day or two more.
I’ve never really considered those that hanging snow before. That’s the gift of getting to know a place well. Things are both familiar and new. You get time to hone in on the details once you know the bigger picture. The formations had me thinking about one of my favorite geographic features, the erratics that dot valleys carved out as glaciers moved through. I love learning about the formations that nature leaves behind, tying what was to the present.
Alaska Dog of the Issue
More soon,
Jenna