Spring and summer in Alaska are not so much gradual phases as sudden, lurching steps. Breakup is when the frozen waterways lose their ice, often violently, as the days grow longer and warmer. Snow lingers until the first bounce into the 50s, when it abruptly melts into puddles and patches of winter-shocked grass. There follows a stretch of grayness, where the snow has melted but nothing really looks alive; then, one week, the hills take on the slightest purple tint as buds form. You go to bed one night, everything gray, and then when you wake up *POOF* and everything is almost instantaneously green.
The light lurches forward, too. After months of darkness you suddenly look around you and notice it's bright at an expected hour. This doesn't last long--maybe a month--and by May the sun isn't setting until 10:30. You see the brightness and know that the solstice is just around the corner, and then we'll be lurching toward darkness again. Alaskans run themselves to exhaustion during the summer because it is a matter of weeks between the weather turning nice and the year turning toward the long dark. There's no time to walk, only run.
Despite the dragging nature of self-isolation, we found plenty of ways to amuse ourselves. I dug out the glue guns and we made mermaid crowns with the hope that we would be able to attend the Seward Mermaid Festival. This is an annual event in Seward, Alaska, that usually takes place in early May but has been delayed because of the pandemic. We're still waiting to find out if it will occur, but if it does, we will be crowned and glittered and fabulous. We also celebrated May the 4th with DIY lightsabers. Bren made a Mandalorian helmet. The extra is strong with us.
I started biking. One of my favorite things about the summers are the well-lit nights. Fox and beavers are out, the colors are gorgeous, and the air still has a touch of ice in it. The birds sing all night long, which is delightful for the first two weeks. Walks are great way to experience all that, but a bike is fast enough to escape mosquitos. I've been riding Rick's bike. The first ride was rough, thanks to a bad combination of a hard, narrow saddle, my ample posterior, and being a smidgen out of shape. I changed out the seat, though, and the rides have been much more pleasant.
There's a fox in the upper left hand corner of the picture. He was not a fan of me riding near his forest and "uffed" at me.
We have started hiking again. Our first trip was up Birch Hill, which is just behind our house. There are plenty of ski-trails that make for great walks. Between the slightly higher elevation and the trees, the snow sticks around a little longer up there. After the inevitable grumbling at having to put on real shoes, the girls loved slip-sliding up and down the half-melted trail.
That's snow, not pavement.
This is an under-snow waterfall from all the melting that refroze.
Because why not?
Tanana Lakes was fun. The best time to go swimming in Alaska is before the water gets too warm and the swimmer's itch starts flaring up. Sometimes, though, that means you have to deal with a little ice in the water. And that the ice is thick enough to stand on.
One of our friends on the ice. She's standing on two inches of ice over three feet of water.
Creamer's Field continues to change as well. We went while it was still snowed over, and again after the melt when the seasonal lake was flooded--and then some. The boardwalk was completely washed out at one end, replaced by some logs braced against a couple water-logged birch trees. The girls were not too excited about crossing the logs, especially when the boardwalk started sinking under their weight. Still, while the water was cold it was only about knee deep at this point, so I urged them on despite protests from some of the party (and some reckless charging ahead on the part of a certain preschooler). It turned out to be a lovely walk, and the girls were sad when I wouldn't let them turn around so we could cross the flooded boardwalks again. Because they are weird, a couple of them preferred to walk it barefoot instead of wearing wet shoes.
This pretty much sums up Creamer's in the spring, though it doesn't have a stench.
This bench is seasonally underwater. By August it should be usable again.
The birds have also arrived at Creamer's in force--though the swans have long since moved on to their northern breeding grounds, they have been replaced by barn swallows, ducks, geese (both snow and Canadian), and sand-hill cranes. Between the birds and the wood-frogs, it can get pretty noisy.
We took our usual spring trip to Denali. Before the tourist season starts you can drive the park road out to Teklanika, and it was gorgeous. Though it was green in Fairbanks, winter still had its claws in Denali; there were parts of the road with six foot drifts on the banks. We got to see a variety of animals this trip--moose, caribou, ptarmigan, ground squirrel, Dall sheep, and even a couple of bears on a distant ridge. To add a little spice, I made Brenna drive us from Nenana to the park. She did a good job--we lived, though I really don't have the temperament to teach people to drive.
Some notes on Denali--at some point I will probably do a post about this park, which I absolutely love. However, for now, this will have to do. Some of these pictures--particularly of the bear, are from a trip last year at the same time, though most of them date to mid May 2020.
I never see moose when I go to Denali, but this mom and baby were hanging out right off the road.
This guy was huge. It was awesome watching him dig for food.
Lenticular clouds often form by mountains, where the air gets trapped and becomes an eddy of current, making these unusual flying saucer-esque shapes.
Alaska is pretty much Middle Earth...
...complete with the Dead Marshes.
This spring has been a little more intense than the last few. I have been eager to get out in my kayak, but the rivers have been running hard and fast until the last week. The normally placid Chena was roughly three feet higher and carrying trees. The pollen has also been insane this year. Our birch outdid themselves, breaking their old record high count of 4,300 in 2016; on May 11, the day after official Green-up, it hit 7,045. One of the fun side-facts of this is that birch pollen can combine with the UV radiation in sunlight to cause a rash. We found this out the hard way when one of the minions got a weird rash--not itchy, almost like hives, doesn't respond to Benedryl or hydrocortisone--that was only on the parts of her skin not covered by clothes. Apparently she's allergic to birch pollen. *shrug* As long as she doesn't have problems breathing, it's a minor inconvenience.
This is a book after sitting at a park for about an hour.
We sort of started a garden this year. I say that because my level of commitment is super low. I bought a native Alaskan wildflower mix and doused my garden areas with it, and in the spots that didn't take I put petunias, green beans, peas, and cherry tomatoes. There are three depressed strawberries in no. 10 cans. Last year Rick transplanted a pair of wild raspberries from the wood line to our front yard, and they are taking off as well. I'm happiest about the mass of fireweed that's shooting up on one side of the house. It's going to be awesome if I can keep the maintenance guys from weed-whacking everything.
The bird feeder in our lilac bush also lured out a squirrel (irreverently dubbed Mr. Bushtail) and one of our tiny voles. I finally got a picture of one!
In an uncharacteristically outdoorsy mood, I invested in a tent that would actually fit all of us and have made the girls practice putting it up and taking it down so we don't look like morons when we actually go camping. Bren also expressed an interest in hunting, so I'm taking her to the range and helping her work on stance and accuracy so she can go out with Rick when he returns. She's her father's daughter, for sure.
We're still doing school, which my kids don't appreciate. They've also gotten to learn some valuable life skills, like how to unclog drains. They don't appreciate those, either.
We have had a wonderful time starting to socialize with our long-lost friends again now that Alaska is opening up, including a delightful Memorial weekend BBQ at a friend's house and a trip with other friends out to Olnes Pond. There's been plenty of playing outside and at playgrounds (scandalous!), and plenty of lazy time in the hammock with a good book, though I need to start wearing sunscreen. I've burned a couple times in the last few days because I'm apparently turning into a vampire and can't handle the sun anymore.
Worth it.
