Here we are two-thirds through May already. Since the last time we chatted, I’ve put away my winter coat. I was a little late this year, but so was the weather. I finally just said “OK. It’s spring. Into the closet you go,” and pulled out the sweat shirts and my spring flowered sweater. We got to rehash the first hundred days of the presidency, pro and con. The Dems pooh-poohed everything whether it is working or not. The Reps applauded everything, whether it is working or not. After a few days retrospective I was happy to have Belichick and his girlfriend take over the spotlight for awhile.
A new pope was elected: an American. The first in history. The North Slope saw their last sunset for the next three months, And the Alaska Legislature muddled along as usual, finally adjourning 120 days into their 90-day session without accomplishing much. The garage sale signs have sprouted and are growing up around town, a sure sign of spring. The grass is greening up and leaves finally coming. Rhubarb has become a hostess gift and my daffodils bloomed in time for Mother’s Day.
For me, this has been one of those times when the days passed so slowly, but all at once it was the first day of spring, then Easter. Mother’s Day flew by and all at once it’s Memorial Day (observed) when just yesterday, we were glad January had finally passed.
In years past, we would be hearing from friends Outside that they are on their way to Alaska. “We’ll be there in two weeks,” or “See you on the fourth.” And we’d call our friends in the north, and start to plan our camping adventure for the Fourth of July: selecting a spot where we could spread out without disturbing other campers, making sure the four-wheelers were all in shape, planning meals for a week, just in case, and counting and recounting people. We tended to collect people along the way, including an adult kid or two, friends who didn’t have anywhere else to go, someone the travelers met on the road who wanted a taste of the “real Alaska.” Our group was always interesting.
And during that outing, we would plan the meet, in our backyard, for the July clam tide. Sometimes the Fourth of July and the clams coincided, but usually the tide was more toward the end of the month. The campers and RVs would start pulling in a couple of days before the actual digging began. License plates from Texas and Washington and Alaska, of course, until our yard was bumper-to-bumper calm diggers. I’m sure the neighbors thought we had opened an RV park. For years we were the Dirty Dozen, then the Magnificent Seven for awhile, finally dwindling to the Fantastic Four. Our Texas friends stopped coming: too far to drive these days. Others, from around Alaska, had different obligations: Grandkids you know. And truthfully, digging clams stopped being fun when everybody stopped with about 10 because it is WORK to dig clams when “you aren’t 50 years old anymore.”
Nowadays we enjoy the parade in Kenai on the fourth. Friends may be here incidentally, waiting to go fishing, or drove down with their kids on a holiday road trip. We enjoy the community doings and visit with others who are doing the same. And, of course, clam digging has been nil for a few years since then, anyway.
But for now, we can finally believe we are going to have a spring. I have to remember lots of little behaviors for the season: which window to shade if I’m watching TV; turn off the timer light because it’s light when I get up and still light when I go to bed; stock up on tissues to prepare for the massive pollen bloom in progress and remember to dust more often because all this light shows when I forget. Soon flowering hanging baskets will be appearing at front doors and work will start on preparing the community garden by the ball field for planting. More and more out-of -state license plates will show up and local businesses will be busier than usual.
The next time we meet it will be the solstice. We’ll be wondering where the season is going. And we’ll start losing daylight, already! Enjoy the spring! Summer’s coming!
