Summer in Alaska. It's such a frenzy of activity for all involved. Endless sunlight, explosive plant growth and animal activity, seasonal shops teeming with tourists, scruffy young fisherman scouring the seas, and late nights of live music and liquor.
By the end of it, everyone and everything is exhausted, making the dark, cozy, sleepiness of winter a welcome change of pace. At least until mid-January when cabin fever starts to set in.
I can't imagine living in a place that doesn't have distinct seasons. I think I would lose my mind. I need a way to tangibly feel the passage of time. I need that ebb and flow that creates a rhythmic cycle of alternating contrasts.
I'm starting to crave some routine, constancy and predictability in my life. And if I'm craving it now, I'm going to be ravenous for it by the time my road trip is over. Which, by the way, is happening in exactly two weeks. Two, busy, fleeting weeks which are going to slip through my fingers like...like something very slippery.
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