Alaskan Night Lights

I don't think there has ever been a Sunday where I couldn't wait for the afternoon to end and the sun to set.  Trust me, it's not because I am looking forward to Monday morning at work.  It's because there was a solar storm.  The Bz's were in the minuses, the kPa's were legendarily high...and it was broad daylight in Alaska.  So I cooked supper early,  wadonned my layers, and watched for the sun to set.    I had my toque on inside as the sun slipped below the mountains, and it was barely Twighlight as I set my lawnchair out in the frozen driveway and took a glass of wine outside in my many layers to stare up at the night sky and wait.  Now, the lights normally come out a bit later, so pretty sure the neighbors thought I was nuts, sitting in my lawnchair in the cold at 9pm.  A situation that unfolds like this has two outcome options...legendary, or ridiculous.  I was hoping my preparation wouldn't jinx my luck at saying Lady Aurora.

I knew it was going to be an early show because the international aurora nerd network was showing brilliant displays in Scotland all afternoon, and the international aurora cams were lighting up.  I was really hoping to catch some reds...I have never seen that before.

Well, I didn't have to wait long.  By 9:30 I got everything I was hoping for.  

When I quickly looked at the shots and tried to pick a favorite, it was hard tonight, but it might be this one.

 
Or maybe this one...the row of colors was so beautiful.  I shall forever think of this one when I think about Alaska Nights and Lights.

The slower moving lights were a little crisper and easier to catch.  I was so blessed to get all the reds.

This one I really liked because of the fluffy snow in the foreground.

On this one I saw a bird.

And, as the Northern Lights do, they explode into super strong bursts of color.

I see an angel in this one.

Coudn't even begin to try to get the whole display in frame.

Rivers in the sky, winding their way through the mountains.

There was so much light in the sky at times it seemed like one big ball of glowing green.

And then it softened up just a bit before the reds started to fade away.

Giving one more sashay across the skyline.

Showing up the moon...kinda felt like the long ago days of clubbing with all the lights lol.

To be honest, I prefer nights like these now (compared to nights out indoors in crowded places).

I have never seen the lights cover this much sky in my little view before.

There aren't enough words for this gorgeous display tonight.  Enjoy.  Morning will be here soon, I best head to bed.  Thank you Alaska....that was fantastic!

Worth it!  Even if I ended up just using my phone again!

The Light Stalker

Hunting for the Northern Lights is a bit of an acquired skill, which is probably why they eluded me, despite valiant efforts, for the first 5 years I was up here.  I signed up for a Northern Lights Photography Class, complete with a midnight walk through the woods to sit out and wait on a cold winter night with a group, but the clouds socked us in, and not a light was to be found.  I signed up for some apps that would give alerts, and would get up in the dead of the night when the kpa index alert went off.  I would drive up to the top of the highest road facing north in town, and wait at 1am, 2 am, starting the car for a bit of heat, layered up, walking about looking for just the right spot.  Occassionally the camera would pick up a faint glow, but nothing I could really see.  I drove north.  I drove south.  I parked in spooky places, and wandered down trailheads armed with a tripod hoping the other cars parked in the spooky places were also hunting auroras and not just silly women who wander into desolate areas at night. Over and over the cycle repeated.   I lost sleep.  I got very cold.  And finally, I gave up.  And then, the northern lights found me.

It first happened on a mild April night.  Yes, April.  There are a lot of questions from traveller's about when you can see the Aurora.  Typically the answer is September to March, when it's dark and cold.  But in theory it can happen any time it's dark.  It just happens more frequently September to March.  

"How do you see them" people will ask.  Alaskans can be blunt.  "Go outside.  Look up" is a reply you often see posted to the question online.  And sometimes that's true, you look up and see it directly overhead, as if those lights are dancing just for you.

"Look North," they also say.  OK, so turns out that is true.  I always figure my house is facing South, but according to the compass on my phone and the old guide to look where the sun rises and turn 90 degrees left to find north...turns out I point a bit Northeast.  So turns out I am situated in a reasonable place to catch the lights from time to time.

I often hear lights are the most active between 1 and 3 am.  Unfortunately, 5 nights a week, that's when I am the least active.  But, there are exceptions to all rules, and the best lights are the ones that you see, so for me, those are pre-midnight lights.  Like these ones.

So how did I catch such a glorious display?  Sheer luck.  I went to a dinner party in Anchorage, and was making my way home about 10:30 at night.  As I was driving down the lane, there was a thin, low film that looked like a cloud, but it had smooth edges, and was very well defined.  That doesn't look like any other cloud I have seen, I thought.  It was pretty fascinating to me, so when I parked the car in the garage, I wandered out and stared at it.  It seemed to be moving, like a ripple in the sky.  And then I saw a faint tinge of green on the horizon.  So I ran in to get my camera.

By the time I set up the tripod, adjusted the settings, and was ready to go, the sky exploded in neon greens.  I quickly switched to my phone camera to get all of these shots.  My 'real' camera is a bit too sensitive to allow for a 3-6 second exposure by shivering hands directly overhead.  Nowadays phone cameras are so good I just flick to night mode, point, shoot, and try to hold my breath and be still for the exposure time.  I have a Samsung S21.  No filters, no edits.

There's seeing the Northern Lights, then there is having them expode in greens, puurples, and whites directly over top of you.  I was shooting the horizon, staring up, and just pointing the phone directly over my head.  It was magnificent!  They are unfurling, wriggling, dancing all across the sky as they go.

I mean, it was just WOW.

It was worth the wait, that's for sure.

This is the kind of fire I like to see.

And you don't have to be way out in the boonies after all.  I was standing out in my driveway, with one other couple who came out to watch the lights as well.

I absolutely love being in the last unit on a dead end lane, on the last property allowed to be developed looking down on the river.  I often feel like I am much further away from civilization than I am.  When I look out my front windows, you cannot see another building in the view...well, except for the lights on the mountainside across the river a few miles.

Sometimes people see images in the light.  This one definitely has something, I leave it to you to see what you see, but I think I see a moose.

On this very day, I was having to make a decision about moving or not moving.  Obviously I took this as a sign, and stayed put!

So, if you intend to be a light stalker as well, find a northern looking spot on a clear night.  Be extra watchful on nights where there is a solar storm, negative Bz values and/or high kPa.  You can learn the science, or what has been more effective for me this year, join a facebook group of aurora watchers who share all of this info, photos, and stalking tips.  When the lights start in your area, the posts explode as well, so it can be a good reminder to get up, and go out.

If you are coming in from outside of Alaska and are intent on catching the lights, there are a lot of Aurora tours.  Many are further north in Fairbanks and have cozy cabins in remote areas to wait for the lights.  You might want to give yourself a buffer of a couple of nights, because cloud cover, snow, and low solar burst activity are hard to predict as far out as booking your trip.  But more importantly, be prepared to be amazed when you are least expecting it.  You can catch gorgeous displays on the flights in or out, at the airport, in Anchorage at the Glen Alps trailhead, in Eagle River at the Mount Baldy Trailhead, up at Hatcher's Pass, on the Knik bridge.  Just watch the posts and....look up as they say.
 

First Spring Has Been Declared

First Spring has arrived in Alaska!  It's the time of year when the days get longer, the icicles get longer as the melting increases, and on a blue sky sunny Saturday every Alaskan is bounding around outside with glee and joy that First Spring brings!  This flying white puffball is so excited its feet don't even touch the ground!  If there was ever a surer sign of first spring, I don't know what it would be.

Those of you who hail from balmier places might be wondering what is first spring, and how many springs are there in Alaska.  To be fair, it's a made up term, to address all the false warm days before nature hits us with another freeze and snow cycle.  It doesn't matter if that first inkling of spring is just a trick, or myth of the mountains.  We love it.  We rush out to enjoy it.  We dream that it will continue into the coming days until we are once again basking in the midnight sun.  But, of course, a myth it is (by Tuesday the forecast would be for 8 more inches of snow Thursday, and of course Friday had the one highway leading southbound into Anchorage closed for several hours due to 40+ cars ditched along the short trek into town).  But, on Saturday, hope was abounding as much as the dog above, and I was ready to believe!

So I put on my walking shoes (and by that I mean almost knee high Sorel snowboots and trekking poles), and decided to take a walk down to the river.

I was going to stop and sit on the little summer bench...but alas it was more than hip deep to blaze a path, and, being deluded that it was Spring, I was not in snowshoes.

While we don't get polar bears this far south or this far inland, it initially gave me pause to see this critter appear in the distance peeking up over the snow berm.

I ran into a couple of young boys, probably 8 or 10.  They were as excited as all of the other creatures out and about on the trail.  They told me "you can walk on the river down there".  I said "I am not sure I am that brave now that it's spring".  I did venture a few paces down the river after seeing skiers still going by, but then went with my first instinct whe I spotted this patch of open water where the water was running swiftly by.

Behold, the woodpecker!  I used to always hear the woodpeckers, but never see them.  I used to joke that my walks down to the river were in quest of the woodpecker's lair.   And so whenever I see them the first thought in my head is "behold!  the woodpecker!" as if some Shakespearean treasure quest. Over the last couple of winters, the woodpeckers have visited my feeder.  One of the more skittish of the birds to stop by, there are a least 2, a full grown woodpecker and a tiny spotted version of it that I assume is the baby woodpecker.  I was happy to see and hear them out picking at the trees as a sign of spring.

My usual lap is down to the river, up again, and down the wooded path that overlooks the river valley.  It wasn't quite spring enough for that.  It looks like even the moose doesn't go through unless she has to.

Mr. Muffins actually woke up, got off the couch, and ambled onto the deck under the deck.  When the world's laziest cat gets up to go outside (tiny porch tiger sighting) it truly is first spring.

They jays visit less frequently in winter, but I do still see them come round.  Their peanut intake has definitely increased.  I am not sure where they hang out on the cold dark days, but they take a break from coming to check for peanuts for a good chunk of the winter.

Heading South of Anchorage towards Girdwood, breakup is already down.  Usually early February as the ice begins to break up, you see big chunks of ice moving with the boretide....car size chunks or ice being tossed up at low tide, and picked back up at high tide.  It looks chilly, but this was a pretty nice day for February in Alaska.
 

Coming back home caught a bit of twilight framing the mountains.

When I pulled into the roadside turnout to grab that shot, I wasn't counting on a few feet of loose snow and slush....fortunately had just enough momentum to get through...getting back out onto the highway was a bit more of a problem, having to time it so I could take a run back through that and rocket onto the highway...having to stop at the 'intersection' am pretty sure I wouldn't have gotten out of the snow.

But, I did spy a mountain goat, or mountain sheep, or sheepy-goat, what ever you want to call it.  I think it was laughing at me almost getting stuck.  Or maybe it too just looks like it's smiling for spring.

Thanks for stopping in First Spring.  I think all Alaskans appreciated your visit!

Words as Wayfinders

 Sometimes when you look at things differently you find a whole new kind of beauty.  I am guessing there are a number of ways to find perspective.  These days I find myself looking for that.  The third and find theme on my walk pondering words, was could words be the wayfinder for me?

Call it what you will, the way, the work life balance, the joy, the energy...it's no longer at my fingertips like it once was.  I spend my days never getting through the work that needs to be done in my job, being mentally and emotionally exhausted, and losing the days off to worry and stress of the accumulating work pile. Who is this person? It's getting harder to tell.  So I know I need to find my way back...even to just last summer for heaven's sake.  How to get there is the tricky bit. In addition to always being tired, I am also uncharacteristically grumpy, far less social , less interested in most things that don't involve sugar, caffeine or sleep.  A colleague and I talked quasi seriously about PTSD in healthcare...and how we probably don't talk about it enough.  As if a pandemic wasn't enough, there had to be politics and camps fighting about the pandemic during the pandemic. This was not helpful.

And so, I wondered while I wandered, could words lead me back?  It seems like words have gotten me through many things.  Writing is therapy, a release -- it soothes a busy mind and sets down some of the burdens on a heavy heart.  For me, there is more therapy in my words to the keyboard than a conversation.  They keyboard never interrupts my sentences, argues its perspective, riles me up, or demands my attention to another topic before I have worked out my feelings on the first.  

Wanting to write feels like a bit of spark of life.  It's a complete distraction from the "other" work self.  It asks me to schedule a time of reflection, and the blog usually has a photo, and heaven knows I love to take and share those.  And maybe this little blog can drive a wedge between the demands of the other self, and nuture the weary and witherered former funny little me.  Writing as soul food.  It might feel a bit open and vulnerable again, but I can comfort myself that my years long neglect of the blog means it might not get read a whole lot in the rough patches of finding my groove again...so maybe the words will drift out into the world wide web and be lost in the melee, or maybe they will find and soothe a soul twin someday down the road.  One can never tell.

Sticks, Stones, and Air

 On one of my walks a while ago, I go to thinking about words.  The first thought I penned out in another post "Where Do Words Go".  But another thought I had was about the absence of words.  The childhood adage is "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me," and it is spoken as if a brave talisman on playgrounds of the 70's and 80's.  And there are surely many words written where words are yielded as weapons causing grievous harm.  But there is also harm in the absence of words.

As I walked, and reflected, as I sometime do, I realized that sometimes the most painful words are those that were never spoken.  I recall that in 2009, I did something I regretted.  In the weeks following the loss of my niece, I was acutely aware of every message, every word -- I guess maybe when the world is rocking we can grab onto words for a second of stability.  I understand that some of friends probably just had no idea what to say.  But as the days went on and I poured my grieving soul into words,posts, pictures...every keystroke was as raw as a rake on scalded skin.  It felt vulnerable, weak, painful, but it was my way of reconciling my thoughts.  And I found myself feeling embarrassed for these emotions on a social media platform with a mix of friends who were responding, and those had been entirely silent on her death and every post that followed.  So I hit unfriend.  Not because I was angry, or expected something different, but because I was ashamed that I may be making them uncomfortable.  I closed my circle tighter.  I think most of us found each other again...but remembering that on my walk reminded me that sometimes it's better to say anything, even something dumb, than nothing at all.  I am sure that statement isn't universally applicable to all situations, but I think when it comes to grief, it's a true statement.  One of the people dearest to me said a one ine statement that could have come out of "Hillbilly Effigy" on the elegance scale, but they acknowledged the loss and where I was at, and it meant the world to me.  I expect I will carry those with me always.  I always try to remember who I was at that time when I sit down to write a sympathy card or speak condolences.   I share a story or memory, because those loved ones are gathering all the history they can.  

There are a lot of other ways the absence of words can hurt.  I am sure many can relate to the end of a friendship or relationship where the words run out and the distance grows.  Maybe there is an unreturned call, or unanswered questions.  Again, think back on breakups, I appreciate the honest close out conversations (and even the honestly stupid or stupidly honest ones) in comparison with the ones with things unsaid.

Some of the friendships I thought would last forever were guillotined (or slow poisoned) by a lack of words.  What wasn't said led me to understand that friendships had moved on without me. The things unsaid and omitted can no more be undone than a thing done.

There are things delayed too long, and I am guilty of many of those.  The check in phone call never made before the news of a former colleague's death arrived.  The invite to go for beer or coffee I was planning on making when I landed in a city instead of planning 2 weeks in advance like a normal person, only to find out the night before travelling that my friend had deteriorated rather suddenly and lost their battle with cancer the night before.

And of course, we all know work without thanks is neither rewarding nor teambuilding.  Words of gratitude and recognition are a form of nutrition in the workplace.  And then there's social media which can be insular and unidirectional without effort.

It's time I reconnect with my words.  And be intentional about placing them.  Sending them out can't hurt, and, of course, who knows where words may go.  Maybe someday they will help someone else heal.

And She Would Be Thirty

Jaycena would be 30 today.  I find myself looking back on some the older pics I have -- the baby photos, the toddler photos.  Something tells me she'd hate it, being as my computer died once trying to upload them, and I just finished dropping my computer on my foot a second ago...taking it as a sign.  However, baby photos are a perfect thing to look back on for someone's 30th.

This one was has always been a favorite -- her mom sent me a letter with some of the first photos...this one said she loved laundry day.  I look at this one and think that even at 2 or 3 months she is finding that mischievious smile.  I didn't realize this until Jaycena came along, but her expressions as a baby were still with her as a teen...that personality is there all along. 

And here is one of the first photo's that would sit in the frame on my fireplace mantle for years -- sitting up for her Christmas photo, what little tuft of hair she had put in a bow, although I don't think she loved having bows in her hair for at least another decade.  That twinkle in those oversized brown eyes is there, and that smile is full on.  She could be hesitant, quiet, but once you earned that smile and that trust, then she was full on all the things in a 2 foot tornado.

Christmas was always my favorite time to visit...there was so much fun, so many surprises, everyone together.  This is one scenario my heart dare not even wonder about what could have been...Christmas with Jaycena at 30...but by god I bet the laughs would be good.

This photo always cracks me up, that expression is so her...in a dress, hair done up, standing still for photos...at this age there was not a lot more she disliked more than this very scenario, but she is doing her absolute best to just hang out with her bunny in hand and smile.  I bet all she could think about was kicking off those satin slippers and running through the flowers, getting some fresh dirt in her toes. 

I will always hear her little voice "take me to the pwaygwound".  No visit to Grandma's was complete without a trip to town to the community playground.  Grandma would take her there every time, and she would go up and down that little slide over and over and over and over.  She took fun time very seriously.

Grandma's house was grand central station.  A set of toys was kept there just for visits, and their mom and dad would always arrive with armloads of their favorite things for the visit.  Of course the bunny was the number one item of importance, but she loved and appreciated every toy and every gift.

I have always loved this picture too, the simple pleasures of catching the first snowflakes.  Pure contentment and bliss on that little face. 

So as I said earlier, I really believe you really are who you are at a very young age.  That makes it easier for me to know some things with absolute certainty today.  I know she would still have that smile, no matter what life may have thrown at her.  I know she would still love animals, and take pleasure in simple things...a lazy Saturday morning, fresh falling snow.  And of course she would have a cat or two.  And help any critter that crossed her path.

While we miss you each and every day, your birthday always reminds me of how lucky we were to have you in our lives.  It's not fair, and it still hurts every day that you are gone, but we were still so incredibly lucky to have you in our lives...niece, daughter, sister, grand-daughter, cousin, and friend.  

There are quotes that say "those we love don't go away, they walk beside us every day.  Unseen, unheard but always near."  I believe that, I need to believe that.  So today, I will go stand outside in the fresh falling snow, and try to see it with the same wonder you did.  Whenever I am graced with a beautiful scene in front of me, or a rare moment, I stop, and soak it in, hoping you are enjoying it too.

I love you my beautiful girl.  I know you would be the most amazing person today.  I know it because that's who you already were.  Love you today, always, and forever.