Winter Solstice

Winter Solstice is upon us. Sarah and I were able to watch the first Lunar Eclipse with a full moon on Winter Solstice in 400 years last night due to the clear, cold skies of Kwethluk. She braved the 18 below windchill, bundled  from head to toe, to go watch it outside, laying in the snow, with Nali nearby. I, however, watched it from the living room window.

When Sarah finally came inside, she said, “My hands are about to freeze off!” to which I replied, “Are my gloves not warm enough?” I was concerned since I just bought those gloves to help me live through winter on the tundra.

“I kept taking them off to text.” Figures!

Solstice, both winter and summer, is a time of celebration in Alaska. The seasons here are so different that marking their beginning and end is of great importance.  Winter Solstice means that the days will now start getting longer, about 5 minutes longer each day until June 21^st, Summer Solstice. As much as I love the long nights of winter, I am definitely looking forward to summer more than ever this year and today marks the downhill slide to summer.  Summer will bring friends and civilization, road travel and walks on the beach, hikes to Grewingk Glacier and specialty coffees at KBay. Summer will bring life.

It is often hard to find “life” here in the winter. The village is a hard place to live. The cold keeps me inside. The darkness makes me want to stay in bed. The frustrating days at school make me want to change careers. Walking outside, bundled in my parka, my peripheral vision is cut off and all I can do is stare at the ground to keep my face from freezing solid. The wind rips through the siding on the house and blows drifts up our front steps. The fog hems us in and prevents the mail from coming.

I have to remind myself to look for the good, the “life,” around me. The winter sunsets are often vibrant and colorful. The K300 sled dog race is in mid-February and will bring mushers from around the world past our village and down the river. We have accomplished much in my classroom this year - reading Shakespeare, writing resumes, printing a school newspaper. The isolation is bringing Sarah and me closer together every day. The snow makes everything fresh and new. The paycheck is sending me and my girls to Hawaii for the holidays.

Tomorrow is the last day of the semester. We are halfway done here. Even though it often feels like a prison term, I have to remind myself that it was self-inflicted. I have learned things about myself here that I would never have know had I not had this experience. Self-reflection is necessary. Introspection is imminent here. It cannot be avoided.

The lack of sunlight in Alaska has never bothered me before. But, before, I’ve always had the mountains to look at during the few hours of daylight. I miss the mountains. I miss them terribly. Lack of Vitamin D that the daylight brings is definitely affecting me physically this year. No doubt, it was a contributing factor to my two bouts with pneumonia. Now, I’ve broken out with a rash on my neck and face. It’s an allergic reaction of sorts. It could be due to the nail polish that I put on last week, for the first time in years. Or, it could just be stress, like everything else. I’m hoping that a few weeks in Hawaii will cure what ails me, that I can return to this desolate place rejuvenated, revived, and ready to finish out the school year with a bang.