Alaskan... spring?

Sitting in my room watching the large, clean white flakes fall from the light grey sky, I have to ask: where is spring?

This happens every year - for at least as long as I can remember - the battle between spring and winter starts late february and goes all the way through May until, quite suddenly, summer comes out of nowhere. While most of the rest of the world enjoys four distinct seasons, Alaska is a mystery. There are only two true distinct seasons - summer and winter - with fall and spring meshing interestingly with winter. Who knows why God works it that way up here, but I think it's mirrored in the Alaskan emotions...

Or, well, at least mine.

I am ready for spring/summer. Warmth. Biking. Walking. Taking the dog to the dog parks and letting her romp, off leash, without the worry of moose sticking to the trail - or the dog getting too cold five seconds after getting there.

At the same time, there's an excitement and joy I get watching the large flakes come down - if they're small it's not as pretty, nor is it as much fun to watch - I'm not sure if that comes from the fact that I'm having a hard time letting go of my childhood, or if it's because it's a strictly Alaskan thing that snow means a whole lot more than cold.

Sure, I gripe about it right along with the next guy, but deep down there's something special, beautiful and exciting about the event of a freak spring snow storm.



Though if it all melts by morning so the roads are clear so I can get to work, I won't be complaining.