It’s been drizzling all morning. The living room window is cranked open, the sliding glass door pushed back to let in a cold breeze. The sound of car tires splashing through puddles mixes pleasantly with the swaying of the trees.
Spring arrived in early May. It was an unobtrusive arrival. One day, the entire landscape was a dreary brown: grass, trees, and the surrounding hills. The next day, a few bright green buds appeared on trees. In the span of several weeks, the landscape slowly transformed into two shades of green: the bright chartreuse I’m familiar with, interspersed with the rich, dark green of Alaska’s tall evergreens. After months of snow, it’s a spectacular sight.
The streets have been transformed as well. Gone are the dirty snow berms and the small lakes of melted snow. People are out and about, soaking in the sun like it’s their job. The quiet, dark town from February has turned into one continuous party. Throughout the day, I see so many people: walking their dogs, pushing strollers, running, rollerblading (just the one guy, that one time, but still), 4-wheeling down the road. There are children everywhere. The parents we know are easy going, putting their kids to bed at late hours so everyone can enjoy the sun.
It’s a strange world here, one divided into darkness and daylight. In the winter, we hibernated. But now that spring is here, the party is never ending.