The ice fog lifted from downtown Fairbanks at about 11:30 this morning. So nice to be able to see more than twenty feet in front of me.
When I walked out to start my car this morning, the air was so crisp it hurt to breathe. For the first time this winter, I had to cover my nose and face with a gloved hand to make sure I didn't burn my lungs. Despite the frigid, bitter conditions, I took a minute to look up and enjoy the sky. The stars were out in full force, looming a little larger than they usually do in such thin, clear air. I knew I had to take in as much of the sky as I could before I left the hills of Ester.
We quickly descend a hill on our drive into Fairbanks. The ice fog settles in a pocket around the highway, and Fairbanks itself sits in a bowl. The mornings when ice fog visits, the inversion also sets up very low in the sky. It's a bit eerie driving around in the dark, with wisps of fog and smoke drifting through the air at eye level. All of the street lights, building lights, car lights are pulled and distorted by the heavy air. It feels a bit like a post-apocalypse universe. It is an interesting experience, and it makes me thankful that I live above the inversion.
The ravens have been playing in the parking lot around my downtown office. Such intelligent birds, I can see why they're a totem animal for so many people. I love that they're bad- always into things. I think perhaps they have a sense of humor, which one would have to have to be such a big bird in such a frozen place. Ravens are such a big part of our world in Fairbanks. Sometimes I don't notice them in the warmer months; but in the winter, they're omnipresent. Perhaps it's how starkly they stand out against the snow. Perhaps it is that they are one of the few living things moving around on days like today.
Living in Fairbanks is hard sometimes, sometimes it reminds me what it is just to survive. I like that I understand the essence of survival. I like that I am reminded at this time of year what determination is, what grit is, that the simple act of being is not always an easy thing. I like that I am reminded how fleeting life can be, without having to learn that through death. Everything is very delicate in the winter, everything has a fragility. Yet underneath the fragility is this amazing strength. Winter in Fairbanks reminds me of this, and I think that is a really amazing thing to have the opportunity to know. That is one of the reasons I am still in Fairbanks.
