I was driving home the other day and realized that the roads have looked like this since November.
Parking lots are a glorious free-for-all, lanes are by common consent, and I've been steering between trees instead of lines. Speedbumps have enough snow packed onto them that they're barely distinguishable from the road. I'm actually kind of sad that I'll have to stop driving on the sidewalks when the ice melts enough to see them again.
It's been interesting watching the weather this past month. While a couple weeks of wacky cold weather paralyzed the lower 48--schools closed, cities issued electric usage guidelines to prevent blackouts, and iguanas fell out of trees onto unsuspecting passersby--we had an entirely different problem.
It was too warm.
Yes, this is a road.
And so is this.
And this.
Parking lots are a glorious free-for-all, lanes are by common consent, and I've been steering between trees instead of lines. Speedbumps have enough snow packed onto them that they're barely distinguishable from the road. I'm actually kind of sad that I'll have to stop driving on the sidewalks when the ice melts enough to see them again.
Not a local pic, but the sentiment applies.
It's been interesting watching the weather this past month. While a couple weeks of wacky cold weather paralyzed the lower 48--schools closed, cities issued electric usage guidelines to prevent blackouts, and iguanas fell out of trees onto unsuspecting passersby--we had an entirely different problem.
It was too warm.
Fairbanks sat at a positively balmy 29 degrees for days. Kids made snowmen, people wandered outside in t-shirts. Schools and businesses were on delayed schedules and the city downgraded road conditions to Black as the temperatures rose to near freezing. It might seem bizarre to be worried about the roads melting while everyone down south worries about them icing, but we've been driving on snowpack and ice for months. When it's cold, the roads are pretty dry and easy to drive--you just take it a little slower, give yourself more space. Unlike most other Americans, Alaskans actually know how to drive on winter roads. Once the temperature starts rising, though, that top layer of snow starts melting--and that's when things get a little iffy.
Another unforeseen consequence of our warm spell was the snow. It's usually pretty dry and light, more like powdered glitter. It's really easy to shovel. When it's warm, though, that fluffy, delightful snow is replaced by snow with the consistency of wet cement. I tromped out in my boots and every step broke through a crust of ice. The snow was so heavy it bent trees...
...and we had 10 inches of the horrible stuff fall over a couple of days. Luckily this was just a temporary spike and the temps fell again to sub-zero temperatures. I'm glad, because this wet snow crap is for the semi-frozen birds.
We're still in the doldrums between Christmas and February, when everything starts kicking off again. The Yukon Quest, one of the most grueling of all dog races, will start on the 3rd. The local Shakespeare company is hosting a Bard-a-Thon, where they will read all of Will's works over the course of a week, and anybody can pop in and read. Also of interest is the upcoming ice festival, which is similar to the one we went to before Christmas but much, much bigger.
Even though it's a seasonably appropriate -15 now, the world is turning. It will be summer before we know it, and in this land of extremes you can feel it in your blood. The days are brighter, longer. The kids are counting the days until they no longer have to actively dress against freezing to death.
Another unforeseen consequence of our warm spell was the snow. It's usually pretty dry and light, more like powdered glitter. It's really easy to shovel. When it's warm, though, that fluffy, delightful snow is replaced by snow with the consistency of wet cement. I tromped out in my boots and every step broke through a crust of ice. The snow was so heavy it bent trees...
...and we had 10 inches of the horrible stuff fall over a couple of days. Luckily this was just a temporary spike and the temps fell again to sub-zero temperatures. I'm glad, because this wet snow crap is for the semi-frozen birds.
Ravens aren't so majestic when they're fluffed out trying not to die.
We're still in the doldrums between Christmas and February, when everything starts kicking off again. The Yukon Quest, one of the most grueling of all dog races, will start on the 3rd. The local Shakespeare company is hosting a Bard-a-Thon, where they will read all of Will's works over the course of a week, and anybody can pop in and read. Also of interest is the upcoming ice festival, which is similar to the one we went to before Christmas but much, much bigger.
Even though it's a seasonably appropriate -15 now, the world is turning. It will be summer before we know it, and in this land of extremes you can feel it in your blood. The days are brighter, longer. The kids are counting the days until they no longer have to actively dress against freezing to death.
They've got a little ways to go.
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