The light has returned! Our solar panels are happy as can be, soaking up the power that makes Arctic Hive buzz. Late March/April in the arctic means it doesn't get dark till past 10pm, as we gain roughly 12 minutes of daylight each day. The wood peckers are knocking on the cedar shakes pre-6 am, and when we're not mushing, the dogs can be found lounging on the snow in front of their boxes, basking in the sun. This is the best time to get all that sun AND the Northern Lights dancing overhead at night.
And then... ahhhh, that feeling when you see snow falling again after a few weeks of spring-like weather. (Did you just cringe?!) While we're getting stoked up here because we love snow and winter, I know some of you look outside in horror!
“No no no no NOOOOO!” How dare Mother Nature tease us?!
Having lived in cold climates my whole life, these days always make me laugh. The sorrow that bleeds through social media is hilarious. You’d think everyone would learn to expect this… but once we’ve had a taste of spring, it’s hard to acknowledge where we just came from, isn’t it?
So as I sat a few days ago, watching big, white flakes fall on our land covered in snow that's been compressing in the sunshine for the past few weeks here in Alaska, I wanted to share with you what days like this mean to me. (And how I cope!)
I believe the seasons are a mirror for us. They’re the blueprints that guide the construction of our life, year after year. When spring has sprung, we do all the things to clean house and soak up that sunshine we’ve been missing. Seemingly overnight, the big box stores shift their snow shovel display to gardening tools. What was once an aisle of salt, sand and boot trays is now patio pillows, outdoor umbrellas and lawn ornaments. The ads you get scrolling on social reflect this mood, too.
Without even realizing it, the world around us seems to sync up with our heart — we feel validated and refreshed. There is a light at the end of this long, dark winter tunnel!
But alas… winter rears its head again and we get pulled back into our season of rest and darkness. Winter, by nature, is a time of reflection and snuggling up with our intentions. We can choose to carve out the time and space to examine what needs tending, and nourish that darker side of ourselves.
By the time spring arrives, we're bursting at the seams to emerge anew, like a budding flower from the earth. Nature is our mirror, every step of the way.
So on days like today, the “unwelcome” snowflakes give me pause to reflect on all the work I’ve done over the winter months. I don’t resist their presence; rather I try to acknowledge it. Honor it. Sometimes I go back and read my journal from the past few months; I never cease to amaze myself with how far my mindset has come, season to season.
By properly honoring my winter incubation, I remember...
... even if it seems I’ve been treading water, there’s been an invisible tide drifting me with purpose in this ocean of opportunity.
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