Hold On, It's Coming

The winter solstice, that is, when we here in the frozen North have our shortest day. But in five days, the sunrise and sunset begin moving farther apart again.

So what does it look like, at 1430 (that's 2:30 pm for you landlubbers)?

What you see here is the sun which has just reappeared from behind the mountains to the south, as it sinks rapidly toward the 1536 (3:36 pm) sunset today.

It's 25 minutes later, now, and the sun is already below that horizon.

You ask, does "all that dark" bother us? A little bit, this time of year: it's hard to tell what time it is, in the afternoon and evening. We frequently think it's 7 or 8 pm, when it's only 4:30.

On the other hand, there's the joyous rediscovery that we have lots more time than we thought. :)

The Earthquake, Seasonal Affective Disorder, and Other Things

No, I'm not musing about quitting.

The last couple of days have been lacking in inspiration for this writer, other than numerous local articles about the earthquake. Most of them have dealt with reports of damage, user-submitted photos of fallen items, and the like.

There's a report about our seismic network consisting of some 40 sensors around the Anchorage area, and how some parts of town shook much harder than others.

It's primarily dependent upon the type of soil in each location, as clay and rock have different responses to a 'quake. Go figure, eh?


There's also a new article this morning about mushers during the big 'quake - the title includes the words "rolling, cracking, spurting river ice":

For mushers in the 300-mile Northern Lights 300 Sled Dog Race, the big earthquake came while some were negotiating an icy trail on the frozen Yentna River, which started bucking and cracking. “It was the longest two minutes of my life,” said Karin Hendrickson.

Iditarod veteran Colleen Robertia's dog team crosses large fissures and jumble ice on Cohoe Lake on Sunday, Jan. 24, 2016, in Kasilof. The obstacles resulted from the 7.1 earthquake that occurred early that morning. Joseph Robertia

That would be unsettling, to say the least!


I think a big part of what's "wrong" with me is the lack of snow. That white stuff reflects back even small amounts of light, and makes everything seem brighter. There's an op-ed in today's paper which describes my current symptoms perfectly:

With the start-and-stop of snow in Southcentral the past several winters, the weirds have settled in pretty hard for me. My eyes feel tired and swollen as if I had a mild sinus infection. I am cranky and think about sunny places in a resentful “if only” way — as though it’s not my choice to live in Alaska. They say if you consistently get outside, it’ll help you through this part of winter. Maybe I could feel worse, and I do wonder, but I get outside a lot, and I wouldn’t exactly say I feel “better.”

Yep. That. Having said that, I'm clinging rather desperately to the upcoming trip to the Midwest, where the sunlight is some 30% brighter than in Alaska. I'll get out, soak it in, and spend all day walking around in it.

Let's just say that April can't come soon enough, this year.

Another Sunny Day (NOT!)

Today's sunrise:  10:03 a.m.

Today sunset:        3:41 p.m.

With the days so short this time of year, today's weather isn't helping:

25° and freezing fog, at 11:38 a.m.

Oh, well, the days start getting longer on the 22nd.

Windy Winter's Day

I'm writing this while looking out at a grey, blustery morning. We've had temps in single digits for several days, although it's 13 now, and there is still heavy frost on things which have been undisturbed since Friday.

We scraped the frost off of my wife's car yesterday so she could run a couple of errands. Last night, we used gift cards to visit a local steakhouse, where we had the finest meal - bar none - that we've ever had while dining out in Anchorage. Thanks to the gift cards, the meal itself was paid for, less 85 cents to which I added a nice tip for a professional server. That was the only cost to us, and I think it's safe to say we'll go back there again.

In truth, we'd tried to eat there twice previously, and discovered they keep irregular hours. Some days, they don't open until after 3 p.m. Some days at 1:00, and ... it's frustrating, but we finally gave up trying to have lunch there & decided on dinner instead. Fortunately, as I said it was a fantastic meal.

* * * * *
In Alaska news, I note with approval that Alaska is joining the ranks of states whose AGs intend to pursue legal challenges to the constitutionality of ObamaKare.
* * * * *

Although the sun officially rose a half-hour ago, it's still darkish out there, and the wind is rustling the branches outside my window. While I'd love to get out & do something, January is the most difficult month of the winter for rousting one's self into the dreary cold.

But somewhere there are sunnier climes, and people go about their days in relative comfort. I'll think about those places, and continue contemplating the day.

Sunday Again

They just keep coming around, don't they? I suppose that beats the alternative, though.

We've been out & done some shopping - wife & younger daughter to Sam's Club, and I to Sportsman's Warehouse, which is quickly becoming a favorite haunt. I was very heavily into recreational shooting (which I've been doing since the age of 6, at my father's side) up until about six years ago. That's when we started preparing for our move up here.

The drive to Alaska required us to spend four days and nights in Canada, which was a nice experience whereby we met some delightful people. However, their gun laws, being so much more restrictive, made me wary of trying to transport an entire gun safe & contents across the border. Rather than go through all the paperwork hoops, I decided to sell or give away all of my guns, ammo, and other supplies.

What with one thing or another, I never got around to starting up again until this past Christmas. Now I get to re-supply, which is fun for me.

The weather here is just below zero, and Accu-Hunch is still guessing we'll get as high as 15 today, with light snow moving in ... perhaps to the tune of a few inches by tomorrow. Nothing major, but the north wind is rather raw. After the last two weeks, we've acclimated somewhat to the severe cold, and don't need terribly heavy coats. Any exposed skin, however, still pays the price.

So I picked up a shoulder rig and some safety glasses. With the weather returning to normal, I can finally schedule a visit to the local range & see how my new pistol behaves.

I've had some nice conversations with my old friend in Missouri - the one who was best man at our wedding, lo these many moons ago - and it seems he & his new wife want to come see us. That will be nice.

Not so many folks want to visit here in the winter, thinking that it's perpetual night, and frigid. Well, they're wrong: it's not dark. After the last two weeks, however, I'm not so sure they're wrong about the frigid part.

The perception that we have ice and snow year-round is false, of course. You've seen lots of pictures of the greenery which I've posted. Our summers are rather short, but very green and lush due to the long days (22 hours of sunlight in June). And we don't live in an igloo. Nor do we have a pet moose or polar bear. And when we run low on gas, we don't tap into the pipeline. It doesn't have gasoline in it, anyway ...

So we're happy to hear that someone wants to visit while it's white outside. It will be nice to get reacquainted with Dana, and get to know Sandi-with-an-i. (She made sure to mention that to me, so I'm reproducing it here.)

It's starting to look grey and snowy out there, so I'm going to wrap this up & try to do something productive with my afternoon.

Don't be a stranger - come on back!