The moment that I realized it was spring?

I was sipping my first morning cup of coffee, doing that weird blank just-got-out-of-bed stare out the window. You know the type; unfocused, heavy lidded, morning limbo gaze that is almost as comfortable as the cup of coffee.

After a minute or two I noticed something odd. There was something sitting on the pristine snow right outside the window. It had a weird texture. An unrecognizable shape. I stared at it for about five minutes, my mind was having trouble trying to name it. To tell you the truth I was a tiny bit scared. It was like seeing an alien, or a mermaid on a distant rock in the ocean, or maybe even odd mole on your foot. It did not belong.

I stared at it till the coffee was gone and the last sip at the bottom of the cup was ice cold. My husband came in the kitchen and I glanced away for a moment to greet him…and when I turned back to resume my puzzled stare I instantly recognized it. A laughed a bit nervously. A flood of actual relief crested over me. It was gravel. Plain old stones peeking through melting snow.

Ah. Spring.

Spring here in the arctic is not what you would call pretty. If Winter is a vain, beautiful, mean woman, then spring is an awkward teenager boy covered in acne and all gangly and squeaky. The snow melts and freezes in quick bursts leaving the ground randomly wet and crunchy at the same time. Layers of debris and animal poo and things you didn’t realize you left in the snow emerge in ugly glory from what was once white and clean.

The willow bushes shed the heavy snow and sit on the horizon looking like a bald mans brand new hair plugs…or maybe barbie hair. Even the dogs scratch miserably at their shedding fur as it falls off in heavy smelly clumps. Early spring is uncomfortable and wonderful at the same time.

The weather gets warm enough for me to emerge from my winter hibernation, and I disappear from the modern world at least every other day. Ice fishing for lake trout and arctic char, trips to the tree line to gather alder bark and cotton tree buds, and general driving around in the melting arctic watching what the animals may be doing. The sound of chittering squirrels and singing snow birds always makes one smile and laugh.

It’s also when our ‘adventure times’ begin. We usually use this term to describe any situation in which we are in the boonies and we will face some type of hardship or we are doing something with a smidgeon of danger. Just a smidgeon mind you. Like if a snow machine breaks down and we have to load it on a sled and drag it home. Or on the way home we encounter a heavy snow blizzard and whiteout conditions. But sometimes we try something new and these are also ‘adventure times’.

Personally I think it’s our way of completely refusing to become a complete adult. As long as I don’t get frostbite or end up in water (which has happened once or twice) then it’s always said with a grin and high five.