As I write this post, I’m on my way back from a trip to the
“lower 48.” After two weeks in the warmth of San Diego and New Orleans, I’m
about to step into temperatures in the teens. When I left, it was fall. It
dipped below freezing at night, but warmed up nicely during the day. When I get
home, I’ll be tromping on snow and facing zero degrees at night.
Winter comes fast in Alaska.
This time of year, each day brings less light. Tomorrow will
contain five minutes and 35 seconds less daylight than we had today. When I
left, I was driving my stepdaughter to school during the tail end of sunrise; when
I get back, the drive will be mostly in the dark.
In Alaska, life is tuned to the light just as much as to the
cold. In the summer, when the daylight never ends, you see a lot of sun but no
moon or stars. In the winter, the sun might barely make it over the horizon,
but the night sky makes up for it with dazzling, panoramic starscapes and
shimmering Aurora Borealis. I might be dreading the cold, but I’m looking
forward to having the moon back.
When I was in New Orleans, I sat down with an author who had
set part of her book in Alaska. She’d done quite a bit of research; I was
impressed. But since she couldn’t afford an actual visit, she asked if I would
help her make it feel more “Alaskan.” My first, and major, tip: always be aware
of what time of year it is. Her book is set just before summer solstice. At
that time, no matter where you are in Alaska, it doesn’t get “dark.” It might
get twilight-y, depending on where you are, but it’s not dark enough for the
moon to shine. You can very easily lose track of time, and not know when one
day ends and the next begins.
If her story took place during this time of year, it would
have been a whole different story. The darkness comes so fast, it creates an
almost frantic feeling. Everyone’s busy racing the oncoming winter, preparing for the onslaught of cold and snow. Firewood needs to be stockpiled.
The last garden harvests need to be canned or frozen. Everything left scattered
outside (tools, wood, buckets) needs to be stowed inside, because if a
blizzard hits, you won’t see it again until spring. If you live in a remote spot, your oil tanks need to be filled while the delivery trucks can still get through. What about winter gear?
Does anyone need new snow boots? Everyone have good insulated gloves? Fall always
feels so rushed and urgent, as each day
gets shorter and colder.
It’s enough to make you look forward to winter, when we can
finally take a breath, safely snuggled inside a cocoon of snow.
If you have any questions about Alaska, visiting Alaska, or
writing about Alaska, please feel free to ask! Between all of us, we’ve
probably experienced just about all aspects of life in the frozen North. Happy Autumn!
Jennifer Bernard
