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To Reach the Top of the Ice Hill
The weather has been wet, and my mind has been cloudy.
The Alaska Alyeska Weather Station reported that this winter has had the lowest snow-water equivalent in all its 47 years of reporting. The forecast boasts snow, and the FaceBook groups I scroll through write paragraphs of hope and trepidation, but flakes fall in the form of drops. Our dark days are made darker still by the lack of snow to bounce the moon’s reflection back into the sky. I realize I’ve never seen Alaska’s foliage in the depths of winter, and the soft siennas and pale grays seem remiss to be bereft of their blanket, on display to the wind and rain and stars.
As the rain mingles with the ebb and flow of temperatures, thick sheets of ice persist where pavement and concrete are laid. Every morning, as I wake for work, I click open the highway newsgroups I follow, nervously scrolling and scanning where the ice patches are the worst on my commute into town. I think of the trailheads that sit abandoned, as the steep, slick drives to reach them are too hazardous to contend with. I think of the city’s walking paths, which are so crucial for those without transportation, now better suited for speed skating.
A few days ago, I saw an ad for free books. With blooming excitement, I messaged to say that I could pick them up right away. Within minutes, I was heating up the car…
