I forgot just one thing:
I'm in Alaska.
As soon as the snow has melted and the sun is up for a disproportionate part of the day, life kicks into high-gear and stays there until mid-August. There is always something to do and two other things you're missing to do it. The urge to be out and about while you can is practically throbbing in your veins. So, instead of drowsing in the hammock and watching the summer snow* drift lazily in the sun, I got to scurrying like everyone else.
Our first adventure was the Solstice. Up here, the third week of June brings about 22 hours of daylight. See exhibits A-D.
The top is the summer solstice, bottom is the winter solstice.
It's exhausting because your body is confused by the sun always being up, but it's of my favorite times of year. This year to celebrate I joined a bunch of friends from church and we did a midnight float down the Chena. It was beautiful, with a couple of foxen**, a slew of beavers, and an eagle as well as some excellent company and the best homemade caramel corn. (I may, or may not, have eaten an entire bag on my own.)
About midnight on the solstice.
3 a.m. rainbow
Despite Rick being gone a good chunk of the summer, I did manage to get out to the lake a couple of times in my kayak. I prefer the river, but that's a lot more difficult to manage when your driver is out of town. The lake sufficed, however. It always surprises me how quiet it is out in the middle of the water.
We continued the tradition of watching the local Shakespeare troupe. This year Bren went with me to see The Merry Wives of Windsor. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and not just because Bren was disapproving half the show. At one point I leaned over and asked if she understood one of the jokes and offered to explain it. She just raised an eyebrow and sniffed, "Oh, I get it. It's just vulgar." Then she laughed, and I knew we could still be friends.
Bren went to her first Girls' Camp. She had a blast getting rained on with her friends. Her sisters didn't know what to do without her, but we managed to keep ourselves entertained until she returned.
Upon her return, we went to Golden Days. This is a festival that celebrates Fairbanks' founding as a gold town. We skipped most of the festivities, but we made sure to hit the River Regatta and the Rubber Duckie Race. The regatta consisted of locals rigging together boats with a sense of humor and a lot of duct tape and trying their luck on the Chena. To add to the fun, people on the bridges drop water balloons and other aquatic bombs on the floaters, who are usually armed with their own missiles and water-guns. Some just pack massive umbrellas or shields, but one floater showed some impressive deflection skills with his shovel-paddle.
If you look carefully, you can see the merman on the left boat.
Our trash company. Yes, those are dumpsters.
The Duck Race is pretty much how it sounds--8,000 little rubber ducks are numbered and dumped in the river. The first forty to cross the line win prizes. People can buy a half-share in a duck or a whole share, which determines the prize won. I didn't win, but watching a massive front end loader upend all the duckies off the bridge was worth it. And, yes, all the ducks are accounted for. An army of kayaking volunteers sweep the river to collect any stragglers. People are generally pretty conscientious up here--they pick up their toys, whether it's ducks on the Chena or cars launched off a cliff down in Glacier View for the 4th of July--which, if I'm here for it next year, I am totally going to go see. 'Merica. (Hey, we have to do something to celebrate. Fireworks aren't an option during 20-odd hours of daylight.)
On one of the quiet days, we found out that Fairbanks has a botanical garden. It's mostly dedicated to seeing which plants can thrive in the sub-arctic, but there are some brilliant flowers, a refreshing water feature, and sweet kids' park with a cool bridge.
Fireweed, one of my very favorite flowers. When the top of the stalk blooms, summer is over.
One weird morning, we had an earthquake. It happens a lot up here, apparently, but this was the first one I've felt. It felt like the whole house jerked sideways. It woke me up, but my unpredictable brain said, "Huh, that must have been an earthquake," and instead of dumping adrenaline inexplicably went back to bed. It was an interesting choice considering my daily anxiety about inconsequential issues, but everything turned out to be fine.
Last but not least, we went berry picking. In addition to the infamous Alaskan blueberries that spring up in late July and August, there are wild raspberries in the woodline and tiny strawberries everywhere else.
We also saw a moose.
NEXT TIME: Family, family everywhere, and not a chance to think.
*The cotton fluff from the cottonwoods. It really does look like fluffy snow, it's everywhere in June and July, and it is gorgeous, even if it does mean I have to sweep my garage every few weeks.
**The logical plural of fox, according to Jenny Lawson, the Bloggess. I agree.
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