Anchorage had its first big citywide snowfall of the season. People who live up on the hillside would quibble with me as they had a big old early snow a month or two back. Where I live in Anchorage? We’ve had bupkis.
That is, until yesterday. This was a movie magic sort of snow. The snowflakes were huge. And they took their time getting to the ground. Drifting down, each on its own path down from the sky. A bit of space between each one. But those individuals made for a mighty pile. I’d guess around eight or nine inches of snow stacked up around my house, decorated my car, and gave all the neighborhood dogs and kids the zoomies. I got pretty damn giddy too.
While snow and ice and cold do add a significant number of to-dos and clothing layers to life here, I love it so. I’m such a winter. Cold is better than hot. (Though after coming in from the cold, the heated floor of my Arctic entry is delightful. Holy hell, I love this floor so very much. When renting, always go for the home where the landlord used to live. That’s the one with the bonus features.)
We’re losing several minutes of light here each day. Though I’m far more owl than lark (ok, I’m 100 percent owl), I do prefer daylight for my solo wanders with Finch. (Well, usually. I’ll get to the night walks another time.) We went around 1 p.m. today and, though there were some other person-dog pairs wandering around, the park was far quieter than it is later in the afternoon.
The mud that was a slog just last week had given way to frozen ground a few days ago and now? Bright white snow that crunched over foot. The downed leaves were hidden. The last bits of fall mushrooms had been disappeared forever. Some of the spruce were bouncing a bit under the weight of the snow, threatening to tip piles of chilly on my head.
But, mostly, it was quiet. If I hadn’t turned my head at the exact right moment, I would have missed my first moose of snow season. I’ve seen this moose before but snow makes everything better. And with the bears, mostly, out of their hair for the next bunch of months, I swear that moose looked the most relaxed he’d been for quite some time.
A few minutes later, a most distinctive noise. I had to circle the tree a few times to find him but, finally, I saw the woodpecker. Finch just stood there by my side, waiting until I was ready to continue the walk. She’s a winter too.
Five things
Whether you’re not lucky enough to be here in Alaska right now or you are in Alaska but prefer to shop online, some made-in-Alaska or by-Alaskans gift-worthy delights: hand-knit qiviut hats and scarves, skateboard decks and basketballs, my favorite salt for popcorn, this kid’s book (illustrated by Sheet’ká (Sitka)-based artist Michaela Goade), or (and!) some gorgeous earrings made with hand-twisted yellow cedar cordage. More next week.
When snow gets really deep, it’s super fun to snowshoe up to the windows of the buildings at Independence Mine. Also: snowshoeing is more fun that people think it’s gonna be. Mostly.
Pinegrove has a song called Alaska on their new album. But they aren’t coming to Alaska on their upcoming tour. Not nice of them. NOT NICE. But typical. (Please, bands, come to Alaska. Really.)
A seasonal art-ish installation a few blocks from my house…
The Alaska Dog of the Week
That’ll do it for this week. Have a great weekend,
Jenna
p.s. Come say hi on Twitter or Instagram.
p.p.s. Want to nominate an Alaska dog of the week? Send me an email at jenna@jennaschnuer.com.