Officially Winter

Well, it's official.  The critters and colors and the smartest tourists are gone.  Snow is falling and the roads aren't so much roads as wide unmarked slides of snowpack and ice.  Coats and boots have been dug out of wherever they were stuffed for the summer.   Mostly, it's cold.

Have you ever been cold?  I don't mean delightfully nippy, or that it's finally time to break out your favorite sweater.  I mean Alaska cold.

Alaska cold is when 15 degrees above zero still feels like sweater weather.  It's feeling your nose hair freeze at -20, and coughing with the first breath you take as your lungs ice over.  It's stepping into the store and still being able to see your breath, your fingers and face starting to ache during the frantic penguin-shuffle from the car to the door, and ice on the inside of your car window.  It's a ninety-degree difference between your living room and your back porch.  All the water in the air freezes into fine crystals that, in rare bouts of humidity, technically form something called an ice fog but was cheerfully nicknamed "the white death" by early Alaskan settlers.  The snow is so dry it drifts like sand.  Even the birds are like, "Damn, I should've flown south when I had the chance."

There are usually around twenty birds huddled on this

particular spot by somebody's laundry exhaust pipe.  Evolution at its laziest.

You might say it's kind of serious.  People have died from the cold.  Power outages take on a certain urgency once the temperature starts dipping.  Drivers often carry extra winter gear. The cold plays merry hell with electronics--cellphones and other devices can get so cold even in pockets that they will shut down in a couple of minutes.  Cars up here more often than not have a power cord hanging out the front so they can be plugged in to stay warm.  The cold's so invasive that even after coming inside your feet can be cold for hours; it seeps through windows and under doors.  It is incredibly easy to find an open window, though--just take off your socks and follow the cold.

So how do people survive up here?  Well, the first--and best--way is to go outside as little as possible. If you must leave, however, then you make like an onion and layer up.

You start with the socks--wool for preference since it's thicker and can keep your feet warm even when snow inevitably melts in your boots.  Next comes a long sleeve tee, a sweater, and fleece-lined stockings under jeans or snow pants.  (Those fleece-lined stockings are the bomb.  Seriously, I don't know how I lived without them before.)  Then there are two types of gloves--thin knit and thick snow-gloves; mittens are even better--a scarf, a hat, and a balaclava if you have it.  Boots are a must, and they are not all created equal.  The general rule is the prettier the boot, the more useless it is.  Then you top it all off with a parka.  By the end, we all feel like that kid in A Christmas Story.

Babies are not exempt from the fun.  The starfish suit is a must.

Except when it's not cold.  After an appropriately cold November, we have had an unseasonably warm December with multiple days above freezing thanks to La Nina and a chinook.  While the slowly melting snow does kind of fun things, all I want for Christmas are sub-freezing temperatures.

I will admit, though, that Christmas in Ice was much more comfortable this year as it was roughly 60 degrees warmer than last year.  It's quickly becoming one of my favorite winter experiences.  Professionals, amateurs, and local politicians all sharpen their chainsaws and snow-knives and make incredible ice sculptures that are then illuminated for your viewing pleasure.

Rick got in on the carving with some of the scraps and his trusty pocket knife.

Us in the igloo.

And the savages.  Naturally.  Because what else would you do with a glowing red altar?

There are igloos and winter houses, slides, mazes, carved benches and hot chocolate. Personally, my favorite part was dragging Claudia around on a sled.  She wasn't impressed.