Early this month it seemed that breakup — local parlance for “spring” — was marching right along. The days were warm (high 30s-low 40s) and the nights were chilly (teens and 20s). Between actual melt and sublimation, we’d gotten glimpses of roads and even bits of sidewalk here and there.
Several dumps of snow later, I remembered just how big a tease breakup can be. Sort of like a stripper who never shows you all the good stuff at once, and who covers up with both fans and the stage curtain just when you’re getting all worked up.
It was 12 degrees when I got up today. Following the sound of the radio, I found DF sipping coffee and listening to the news. “It’s minus eleven in Talkeetna,” he said cheerfully.
I’ll give you a hint: That was about the low temperature when my friends and I went up for the Talkeetna Bachelors Auction and Wilderness Woman Competition. In December.
And yes, I know it snowed this week in Denver and that Denver sometimes gets snow in May. But they’re at a mile of elevation and we’re at sea level. Besides, it was 71 degrees in Denver the other day. The average June temperature in Anchorage is between 61 and 65 degrees.
A chance at beauty
It was 28 degrees and sunny by late afternoon and the drip-drip-drip of snow melting off the carport began to be heard. But it clouded up as I drove to pick up DF and halfway there new snow began to fall. It followed us back home, drifting down lightly at first. But the clouds really opened up while we made supper, falling so thickly it was hard to see the back yard.
DF declared those light and fluffy flakes the perfect consistency for a childhood treat, “snow cream.” Since the dumping lasted only only about another 20 minutes, he canceled that plan. Had it kept up he would have gathered a pan full and mixed it with sweetened condensed milk.
With any luck, I won’t have a chance to try it until next year. But with a breakup like this, you never know.
Although I sound cranky, I have to admit the day ended well. After dinner we went out for a walk, tramping about a mile along side streets in the neighborhood. We passed a log cabin next to an A-frame, a patch of feral raspberries now buried in snow (“I’ll see you next summer,” I vowed as we shuffled past), moose tracks but no moose, and some lovely evening colors.
By then it was nearly 9 p.m. but the sun had not yet set. (At this time of year daylight returns a lot faster than spring.) Spruce trees showed dark and spiky against peachy-pink clouds in the western sky. To the east, the Chugach Range turned a deep purple despite its latest coating of snow.
The temperature had dropped to 19 degrees and the air felt fresh and invigorating to someone who’d spent way too much of the day indoors. After we’d eaten dinner I’d wanted nothing more than to lie down. Now I was glad I hadn’t, because I’d been given a chance at beauty. Maybe winter had something else to teach me. Or maybe it just wanted to shut me up.
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That kind of winter would be telling me to move south. That kind of cold would be unbearable for me. Plus, SAD would claim me. If it involves cold or mountains, I ask people to just send me pictures. It sound lovely from here, the South where I can wear sandals all year. I am glad you are enjoying life there.
I never heard of using sweetened condensed milk for snowcream. We always made sugar, milk, and vanilla to make snowcream. But, it sound delicious.
I don’t recall ever seeing those pretty postage stamps.
Hey it was 89 here yesterday and 65 for a high today. I can handle cold but heat like yesterday means sinuses swollen to bursting today. I am moving up by you. Down here the weather is the pits anymore.
Ugh. You have my sympathies.
Your writings echo how I feel today. As I was driving home Tuesday afternoon, I encountered rain, sleet, hail, snow, thunder, and lightning as the wind tried desperately to push my car off the road. Only in Nebraska, I thought, could this all occur on a short 12 mile commute home. I don’t care where you live though, there are perils everywhere. We just have to remember to look for the beauty, like the sandhill cranes that are only here for a short time, fattening up on good ole Nebraska corn left behind in the fields. Or the full rainbow that decided to show up in the sky. There is beauty everywhere…we just have to seek it out sometimes.
You’re right. And I say that even though it was 5 degrees when I got up.
Brrrr!! Sounds like a great reason to stay snuggled in bed. I skated into work on a sheet of ice, but we finally made it to the above freezing mark this afternoon. I cannot believe it’s this cold in mid-April!
I expect cold at night, but in mid-April we should be warming up more during the day. Will be interesting to see how high the temps go now that it’s sunny instead of cloudy. I’m thinking melt, dammit.
Very sweet article…it seems domestic life agrees with you… Though not as crazy as your weather…in this neck of the woods a new record was set yesterday 91 and in a couple of days calling for the overnight low to go down to the 20’s. Don’t know whether to carry in firewood or pull out the short pants!
I’d say, “Wear short pants while bringing in more firewood.”
Weather in Iowa for at least a week has been rainy and dreary. Sump pump has run non-stop. Forecast shows no sunshine in sight.
I have a major case of SAD every winter and am in much need of sunshine. Only good thing is I am starting to see green in my lawn. However, the lilac is not showing any signs of life. It’s 38 right now. Much too cold for April.
It was 5 degrees again this morning, although it’s gone up to 10 degrees since I got up. And more snow is a possibility in a couple of days. Sigh.
I really do have visiting Alaska on my things to do one day list. Your writing is killing me in a good way
Well, let me know when you get here. At this point, I’m thinking Florida looks pretty darned good….House swap!
My New Hampshire-born mom talks about maple syrup snow — fresh fallen white snow with real maple syrup poured over it, but snow cream sounds lovely!
Feeling the cold for you — here in LA it is almost always hot and sunny, oppressively so — my SAD is of the “too bright too hot too much” variety. Loved this beautiful piece — felt like I was tracking the moose(s) (?) and breathing that invigorating Alaska air.
Thanks, ma’am. It was invigorating to get outside. Sometimes just getting outside seems insurmountable, but once I’m out I’m glad I did it.