A journalist observes life in the far north.
It’s time for wood fires, warm hats, slow sunrises and snow tires. I’m glad for it because the constant sunlight all summer long makes me restless. I’m sad for it because by February, I start to feel a little depraved. A week of 40 below and I tend to want to greet my fellow citizens with a scowl and a fuck you. Sorry. I’ll try to do better this winter. Exercise helps. Shopping does too.
Alec brought home a bathtub last weekend, a surprise for me. If he manages to install it, that will help too. Before I moved to Murphy Dome, I spent hours in the bathtub, reading The New Yorker and talking on the phone. I’ve missed passing the time that way. A hot bath is a good way to warm up.
What I’ll miss most about summer is growing things. And going hiking with little preparation, just good shoes and a baby on my back. From now on, I’ll have to bundle up me and bundle up Lucky, a 20 minute chore.
At least Lucky is old enough to frolic and make snowmen, although I can’t see how she’ll be able to walk around in her bulky snow boots. Maybe I should let her practice inside.