Don't get overloaded by Alaska's seasonal extremes

When I was a kid, I remember overhearing a friend's mom declare that some people always say they're busy even when they're not.

It's one of those funny offhand comments that she probably doesn't even remember. (It's also a scary reminder that you never know what choice phrase a child brain will latch onto and remember for-ev-er). At the time, I felt a little guilty hearing what she said. I wondered if I was one of those people. It seemed like it took a lot of effort for me to digest what was going on in my world, and for that I needed space. But was I objectively busy? No, I guessed.

Of course, all of that took place in my little brain. And what I was left with was the judgment that busy is better. As I got older, and even sometimes now, I find I take pride in being able to field a lot of moving parts in my life at any given time. I almost unconsciously think to myself in those moments: Rachel's mom would see that I'm one of those people who is actually busy, not just saying it.

But living here in Alaska, I see that a good life in the north country demands I moderate my energy better than just "staying busy." Winter and summer, in extremes of light and weather, require that I pay better attention to my schedule. The shoulder seasons give me time to prepare for the coming season.

Highs of daylight

Last weekend while driving to a trailhead, I had a feeling of utter euphoria. If the synapses in my brain were visible, they would have been firing, sun-drenched, around my head. No doubt, the overall quality of life in Alaska had something to do with my sudden fierce happiness. But so did brain chemistry.

The sun was back.

I'm familiar with this feeling because it hits me every spring, or when I'm traveling in a sunnier place during winter. In the sun, our winter suddenly feels very dark in retrospect. If the Alaska winter were a photo book that I opened, it would reveal nothing but blue-grays and deep purples. The feeling I leave behind is sluggish, whereas in the sun I feel alert and wide awake, like my eyes are bigger.

Not that I don't love winter. I do. But there is an enormous and abrupt contrast between winter and spring. When the spring sun blazes onto me, it can feel as though it's 30 degrees when it's still in the single digits. By contrast, the winter sun barely elbows its way into Alaska's sky, making me feel like I've been asleep for months.

Blahs and blues

Maybe this is why it hits me hard when, even in the sunny spring, I fall into a brief funk. That's just life, right? But even in early summer, there will be days where I feel sluggish and tired. What's wrong? I wonder.

Then someone kindly reminds me that ever since the sun became a thing again, I've been "busy," just like my friend's mom implied a good industrious human should be. I have a tan from playing outside every day. I'm in a frenzy with projects at work and at home. I'm giddy to see friends I haven't seen all winter, so lots of beer is being consumed on back porches as the sun lingers in the sky later and later.

Alaska weather extremes remind me that I need to manage myself. The swings back and forth each season — burrowing in during the winter, taking on all of the things in the summer — can be enjoyable. But the only person who can moderate my energy is me.

And sometimes that means being the person who says she is busy, but isn't.

Snow

At first when I looked at the weather forecast for the coming week, I was disappointed. The long string of sunny days is over for now. As I write this, snow continues to fall with more than 6 inches on the ground. There go the fast trails. I guess I'll give my classic skis another whirl after all. No more sunny back porch late afternoon cocktails for the time being.

No sunny euphoria, at least for now.

But the truth is, and you know it's coming, that as the first "real" winter I've experienced in Alaska for a while, the snow in late March actually feels good. It feels right. Maybe my acceptance of this is because I don't really have a choice. I can have a bad attitude about the setback to summer, or I can take it for what it is.

For me, it's a reminder to moderate myself while also adapting to the outdoors. It's a reminder that even with the increasing daylight, "busy" isn't always better. Snow creates a brief pause before what is inevitable. Longer days will march us all toward summer, and the frenzy that always comes along. I'm taking a breather here and stopping everything else to enjoy it, even if that means that from the outside I don't appear busy. I like this pace of life.

Alli Harvey is a freelance writer and columnist based in Palmer.