Dear Cold, Snow and Dark,
Well, it's starting to become your time of year again across nearly all of Alaska. Daylight is contracting, first frosts have been recorded in most of the state. Puddles have started to ice over, and your snows are creeping down the mountains as birds leave and animals prepare to winter over. Your inevitable place in the cycle arises yet again.
We The Concerned are glad for the proof that the Earth is still moving through the cosmos. But some of us are very concerned about your approach, knowing that what lies ahead is usually no picnic. The rest of us, many long acquainted with you, knew it would happen sooner or later. We're mainly concerned about all the concern.
Many Alaskans dislike winter and dread signs of its approach. And they're right. It's no fun at all to scrape an inch and a half of glazed ice and snow off of a windshield in a stiff breeze at 20 degrees, or colder even. Nor is it any fun to have one's vehicle entombed by a street plow. Having a permanently runny nose and skin so dry it feels as tight as a drum-head is pretty lame too. You add extra expense and inconvenience in all sorts of ways: Extra minutes of car idling, slow or dangerous driving, frozen and drafty home windows and doors, extra heating costs, winter survival kits, permanently cold hands and feet, aching joints, snow shoveling, ice chipping, and plenty of extra Kleenex, lotion and lip balm.
Even the solutions to many of your problems are detestable to some. It's a hassle to remember to sit in front of artificial sunlight and eat vitamin D to combat internal darkness triggered by winter night's widest dilation. Extra layers of clothing feel constricting, too, and it's a big hassle to put them on and off again. Sadly, even the softest wool is still itchy against some skin. Sure it's acceptable in Alaska to wear winter boots with dress clothes and even many legislators and leading citizens sport hat-hair, but it's hard to feel like we're looking our best in the winter. Yes, it's safe to say some of The Concerned can't stand you.
It's equally true that many of us love you and can't wait for you to arrive. You mean a blessed end to mosquitoes and all manner of no-see-ums. We like to imagine your immense, frigid palm smacking every single one of them with a single blow. You also mean that bears start to hibernate, leaving the landscape short one major source of backcountry worry.
We who love you can now look up to your darkening skies in awe, welcome the stars again and keep tabs on the aurora. You also mean Alaska feels a little bit more Alaskan; there's a near complete lack of visitors and hustle-bustle. And aside from irrationally high emotions flaring up every winter after the holidays, everyone seems to mellow out a great deal.
For many Alaskans who love you, your arrival means snowsports and easier travel across landscapes mostly impassable during the summer. Without you, some of Alaska's favorite pastimes and economic activities wouldn't be possible: Skiing, raven watching, snowboarding, snowshoeing, whaling, dogsledding, beard frosting, snowmachining, skating, fur trapping, tobogganing, ice fishing, snowball fighting, whitewashing and hot cocoa making.
Some of the most extreme fans of winter among The Concerned are completely stoked because you mean they'll soon be able to spin broadies practically anywhere they want and jump from high places into pillowy mounds of snow. These members of the Concerned aren't satisfied with "snow angels," they prefer face-first, kicking and thrashing "snow Vikings." Just this week, in fact, they finished giving their lucky long underwear a once-yearly washing.
But it's no secret that you're losing a bit of your bite these days and becoming more unpredictable. Freak warm spells, odd storms and late freeze-ups are happening more often lately. Even though people think cold is bad, most Arctic and sub-Arctic people know that cold weather is not unusual. In the North, cold is safe. Hard-frozen rivers, lakes and lagoons are safer, unbroken sea ice anchored to shore is safer. Cold snow is dry, fast snow. Sure warm spells are a small relief, but they usually mean clouds block out what little sun there is.
Which reminds us: No matter how we The Concerned feel about you individually, we all know you require extra gear and knowledge to survive. And every year, we don't fear the mundane terrors of winter so much as we fear the very real danger of people dying through carelessness or accident.
Already this season, a woman died sleeping outside in Anchorage on a recent chilly night. We don't know how responsible you are for her death, but it's almost certain she won't be the only one to lose a life in Alaska before next spring. We The Concerned know there will be more reports of urban, wilderness and backcountry deaths, and plenty of lucky close calls, all related to the risks you pose.
So please, take it easy on Alaskans this year, no matter how they feel about you.