Each day when I walk outside my front or back door here in Arizona, the sky is generally royal blue, and no rain or snow is present. It’s become so ‘the norm’ that I sometimes take Arizona weather for granted.
During the summer months, heat is always present, but I’ve become accustomed to it. There’s nothing like wearing shorts and a T-shirt a full 12 months out of the year. Some residents opt for jackets and jeans during December and January, but being from Alaska must’ve toughened my skin, or warped my brain.
There were times in Anchorage when it rained the full summer, with occasional clear days. On those good days, someone would always say, “That’s why we live here!” I was never one of those folks. The nice days were sweet, but I always remembered that the following week or month could be gray and gloomy.
Snow was great to have when I owned a snowmachine or cross-country skied, yet I’d forego it in a Tennessee minute for warm weather and a swimming pool. Living in Alaska, a person had to enjoy whatever weather came along or they’d be miserable.
I did my fair share of camping and hiking in the rain, but I can say for sure that it put a damper on such activities. Staying inside a tent for two days while it rained cats and dogs did make for some quiet reading and thinking time.
I recall occasions when I dialed up my realtor friend, Randy Randall, in Lake Havasu City, during December or January. He’d tell me he just got back from exploring some mine in the desert, or shooting his gun. I’d be looking out our back window in Anchorage as he mentioned this, seeing that the outside temp was 10 below. “What am I doing here?” immediately popped into my head.
I have no regrets about having grown up in Alaska. I got to see and do things that others living in the ‘lower 48’ never experienced. When I say the lower 48, I mean those states excluding Hawaii and Alaska.
Each winter in our city by the lake, I see more and more Alaska license plates pop up. Making it a point to see who’s driving these vehicles, I find that not all are old retired people like me.
Some of them, like the family owning a second home right around the corner from us, are from Homer, Alaska. They have a seasonal business. Although I’ve never asked, they must view warm temperatures as more advantageous than cold and damp. Many of these Alaskans now stay year-round.
When someone asks if I’d move back to Alaska full-time, the answer is no. Been there—done that—applies to many things, with my nearly freezing to death being one of them. That one experience was when I fell through the ice in Chester Creek in January, when the temperature was 20 below.
My clothes froze solid like a fudgsicle. A friend, along with my brother, quickly got me into a hot shower, clothing, boots, and all. That saved my hide from frostbite. Almost becoming another Frosty the Snowman will never happen again—at least not to me while living in the Grand Canyon State!
I like to write junk... 