I was shocked to find out most people don't like late fall.
The first time I heard a friend tick off the reasons she disliked it, I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach that told me she was making sense. Leaves have fallen, it's getting colder, but nothing's frozen or snow-covered yet. It's getting darker in the morning and at night. The furnace kicks on, and everyone gets sick.
The thing is, I have always loved this time of year. Here's why.
Fall in Southcentral seemed to last longer than normal this year, before ending quickly. The trees gave up their yellow leaves in one giant drop that landed in my yard. All that's left are some skeletal branches and, in places, last year's Christmas lights.
However, when I look through the trees there is a clear view of Cook Inlet. In the morning, the light hitting my kitchen window is unfiltered. The "dappling" effect of summer light streaming through the leaves is quaint but inconsistent. Now, a steady stream of light hits the spider plant, the sink -- and me.
Of course, on its way into my kitchen, the light also hits the bottle of Vitamin D I've started taking again. Let's face it, any light from here on out is going to disappear exponentially (more on that in a bit).
Still, I love the quality of light this time of year. It still looks warm, probably because of orange foliage hanging on to some of the lower brush. It's also lower on the horizon and more direct, with fewer things getting in its way. It feels like winter leveling with me by putting its elbow on the counter, making eye contact and saying, "I'm on my way."
Nothings frozen yet
If I could actually have a conversation with winter, we would probably talk about trust. I'd ask winter if there was actually a timeline in place or any plans for consistency this year. I'd make myself vulnerable by describing how I felt last year when, on Christmas morning, it snowed big, fat, beautiful flakes that proceeded to melt away by mid-afternoon. (Not good, winter. It felt not good.)
Since I can't actually reason with winter, I'm hoping this year will be different from the last two winters. So this time of year is all about anticipation.
Attention, adults: Remember snow days?
Defining the standard for keeping kids home from school is different than in the Lower 48, but regardless of whether it was subzero weather, ice or snow, I'm sure a surprise day off was welcome. Then there was the anticipation, the whispers that a day off might happen. For me, growing up on the East Coast, there was the heavy, orange sky the night before. Flakes would start falling. Sometimes, school would be canceled a night in advance, which meant I could stay up late. The actual day off was about building forts and getting tired of the neighborhood kids until I came inside shivering and wet.
Of course, adults have a different interpretation. Snow requires us to shovel, get out the door very early, scrape off our windshields and anticipate other drivers making stupid decisions that result in traffic accidents.
But take a step back from all of that. Consider how amazing it is that winter is so prominent in our Alaska lives. During this part of fall, it's like a giant night-before-a-snow-day feeling. I see the white creeping down the mountains. I feel the temperatures drop as I inhale, and when I exhale I can see my breath. It's exciting and exhilarating to know what I'm experiencing is the path leading toward the cold end of Alaska's extremes and that I'll be here to be part of it.
Darker in the morning, darker at night
The darkness will be old by February. In fact, I probably won't be allowed to write anything for the entire month of February, because I won't have a kind word to say about Alaska.
However, right now, as I start to pop the Vitamin D (which, placebo or not, seems to do something), I love the extra sleep I'm getting. I go to bed earlier in the evening and get up later in the morning. I keep my window cracked so the temperature is cool. I see both sunrise and sunset through the skeletal trees. Pinks and oranges reflect boldly on the sides of other houses and power lines.
There are stars! I missed those throughout the summer. There's the aurora! We've had some incredible nights so far this year. It's a great time of year for campfires.
Late fall in Alaska is beautiful in a stark way. Enjoying it is about slowing down, sleeping in and continuing to go outside -- but with a few more layers and maybe a head lamp.
Alli Harvey lives, works and plays in Anchorage.
Need ideas on what to do outdoors in mid-October? Check adn.com/outdoors for 10 suggestions.