You Don't Always Snap What You Wa-ant

But sometiiiiimes...you dig what you see! In the viewer, afterwards. If you don't just delete it because it wasn't what you were hoping for.

What am I talking about? Well, you know photobombing -- have you ever had the window you were photographing through sort of foreground-photobomb you? My new fancy camera kept picking up the condensation on the various car windows I was looking through, in various States, and taking a pictures of that instead. I was mad at it until I saw the resulting photos -- and now I say, camera knows best. All praise and glory to the technology. And now, I submit to you the photos, and a thought: Just because it wasn't what you wanted...

Gentle reminder, these are my photos; ask before using.

Water, snow, an icy tree and gray skies; water in all its forms.

Did you catch the rainbow hidden in plain sight?

A grubby kind of beauty; I like the guard rail's imposition.



...Don't be too quick to reject the beautiful accidents life hands you!

With The Power Of My Mind

Poor tiny puffballs

Every year, October becomes the battleground of my passionate, if newly-made, seasonal convictions: Your costume should not be covered by a parka. You do not trick-or-treat past snowmen. THERE IS NO SNOWING ON HALLOWEEN.

Alaska does not agree.

Snow, snow, inevitable snow. It usually starts to dust in late September, early October -- but that first attack better land hard, because after that, my guards is up -- and I hold the inevitable forces of Winter at bay, with the power of my mind.

Yeah, I'm crazy. It's okay, you can say it. I know.

But perhaps losing your mind strengthens it, because although it's now solidly November there's still only about 2 inches of snow on the ground -- held back, ostensibly, by my awesome no-snow brain powers. Admittedly, Winter and I got through October in a tense standoff where there was no snow because it was too cold to snow, but it warmed up and got down to business a bit since November rolled around...but not up to Alaska's usual ha-ha-screw-you standard. Did I, like, break it?

What year is it??

The grass is bare, exposed, yet frozen solid -- if you walk on it, it breaks with a gritty crunch. You could mow your lawn by shuffling. Fallen leaves are preserved without decay in icy casings. It's like we put Fall on ice up here in the land of the Ragin' Anchor. I'm starting to fear my own powers; I'm going to end up a Batman villain if I don't watch it.

Alaskan Summer: The OTHER White Fluff

Ahhh, Alaska -- home of the 8-month Winter. Where weather becomes, if not a matter of life and death, at the very least a factor in how you're going to be leading your life. Like, whether or not you're going to get to see your friends, or go outside today. Or if your power will be staying on.

As a Hawaii-girl by birth, I'm not accustomed to such a proactive meteorological scheme. I do admit to a flash-flood or two, but that's in a 20+ years time-frame. Every semester at UAA there was at least one emergency shut-down of campus, where students were encouraged to remain safely at home and indoors. And funnily enough, it wasn't because of snow; believe me, Alaskans know how to deal with snow. It was the wind; not a frequent phenomenon, but instantly noticeable when it appears...something about how it tries to eat your skin off through all 4 layers of clothing, including that expensive heavy winter coat.



The void of space; almost as cold as our car in the morning





No, snow is largely the icing (ha!) on an already icy cake. It comes down in flurries of tiny snowflakes, little points of white that stream past the car windshield like stars past the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise.

Thank goodness for Summer-- the Alaskan skies switch their game up with sunshine, rain, and these beautiful white flurries that stream past the windshield like -- hold on, wait a minute! What the fluff?

Just lather, rinse, repeat...every year.

No, you didn't reread -- and I didn't mistype. Here, in the depths of August, white specks float silently in the air, and collect in drifts along the ground. But it isn't snow; thank the gods for that. It's dandelion fluff.

Disregard that my work building is in the background; I do.

Yes, dandelions are one of the many types of wildflower Alaskan hills sport in nigh-on every available color, and it is certainly the most proactive in getting its action in before the Summer fades. Ever accidentally biked through a cloud of gnats? Try having that experience every yard of the way. It is a unique sensation, to say the least, and inspires post-cycling dental hygiene like you wouldn't believe. But it is a sign of Summer, and I'm willing to take that as glass-half-full. Unlike every other white person I seem to meet, I'm not allergic to dander or pollen, and am familiar -- nay, even comfortable -- with the reality of insects. I guess I have my tropical upbringing to thank there. However, in semi-urban Anchorage, the outside world is treated with a strange, hesitant sort of hopeful suspicion. They're used to it trying to kill them, and at least Winter is a familiar concept to them. Summer is full of bugs and burrs, and Kana prances quite alone, barefoot in the backyard.

That speck? Way in the distance? That's her.

I tempted Miss Pants to a dandelion-festooned impromptu picnic last year, however, to great success; exactly why she had picnic supplies and an old shower curtain to spread out in her car at that particular time is just one of the wonderful mysteries that surround her.

And while the brilliant sunshine phase of the brief Alaskan Summer has largely passed us by since last I wrote, this newest of sky-occupants waiting for me to bike through it is none other than glorious, miraculous rain. With my (relatively) new flora-inspired bumbershoot, I look for excuses to go out in the wet. It didn't work so well against the dandelion fluff, so while it means our Summer is fading, I bid a blithe farewell to Alaska's Other Fluff, in favor of a sub-season I can really accessorize with.

You may tease shallowness in the "Comments" section below. :)

Spring Update, OR: STOP IT ALASKA

Noooooooooooo

So I woke up to this today...effin' Alaska! STOP IT. The traffic was poops, the whole city was at a loss to change back to old driving habits. And now that I'm at work, it's still just PISSING down out there, each large wet fluffy flake giggling obscenely as it passes my floor's windows...at least in my mind.

Look at it, just giggling merrily away like
so many little vicious pixies - EFF YOU SNOW

I might have gone a little cuckoo at the sight; you see I bought a t-shirt last night. Madness, you say? It was heady optimism, I know, and I was carried away  by the siren song of Summer -- and now, here I am, all enshirtled, gazing bleakly at the giggling snow. KHAAAAAAAAAN!

All upon a bleak midwinter? TRY MARCH.

::Mid-day Update::
I have been informed by my coworkers that I'm insane for expecting anything OTHER than this when it's "only March." I didn't tell them about the giggling snowflakes.