These pictures are courtesy of Josh's classroom Alaska Map.
This picture gives you an idea of where we are in Alaska. We are not as far North as some people think. And for those of you who watch Flying Wild Alaska, that inlet just north of us is where Unalakleet is located.
For those wondering exactly where in Alaska we are, here's a clue. If you can see that red writing, it says "We are here" and to the right of that, it says "Fortuna Ledge PO", and that is our Post Office. We are right along the Yukon River with Russian Mission upriver from us and Pilot Station downriver.
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| {View from our living room window} |
So it was -39 degrees in Marshall yesterday. Very cold. So cold in fact that my house has been having trouble staying warm. It's been at least three degrees below the temperature I have set since I woke up yesterday. There have been days where with the wind chill it is -39, but yesterday that was the actual temperature. Not the wind chill temperature. Which means that if any wind was blowing, it was even colder.
The weather here is unlike anything I have ever experienced.
Today the high is supposed to be between -10 and -20. And with the wind gusting up to -35, the wind chill temperature is supposed to be -55!!! Sundays we tend to go to the school to Skype with either my family or Josh's family. But today there is no way I am bundling up our three munchkins to take them out into that kind of weather.
Not only does the wind cause insane wind chill temperatures, it controls the flights in and out of here, causes our house to tremble and occasionally forces the power out. The sound of the wind howling outside is like a jumbo jet taking off. The sound can, at times, be deafening.
Other times it's more of a steady sound, like ocean waves, and if I close my eyes I can pretend I'm at my grandparents house, with the bedroom window open, the sounds of the sea lulling me to sleep.
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| {The view from my bedroom window, looking left} |
Mostly the wind blows parallel to our housing. But sometimes it runs perpendicular, and then the snow that has gathered on the roof of our arctic entry slams harshly into our bedroom window above. It sounds like pebbles being thrown, with some force, to wake us from our slumber.
Please pardon the quality of my pictures. These were all taken from inside the house, since it's been so cold, and the reflection of the glass messes with my camera's abilities. (Plus I'm not that good a photographer!) Despite their quality, they do accurately capture the light. Each day it's getting about six minutes brighter. Soon the sun won't set until 6pm. We are not so far north that we ever have a period of time with no sunlight. Rather, the day before Josh flew home, December 22, was the shortest, darkest day there would be, and from there daylight has gotten longer & longer. He says by the time we leave in May, it will be lighter longer than it is dark.
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| {Looking straight out our bedroom window} |
The light here, and the views from all our windows, are spectacular. Everyday looks different. Each sunrise, like a snowflake, unique and beautiful in its own way.
Today for instance, is reminding me of the Oregon coast. Grey, with bits of light peeking through, but mostly dismal. It's strange to love it, but I do. For it reminds me of home.
I haven't seen a drop of rain for almost a month now. How strange that is. Years of rain. Wetness. Moisture. And now I am in what feels like the driest place on the planet. It is so dry here. Everything itches. And my nose & eyes ache from being so dry. I drink more water here than I did in Washington, if that is possible, and I put Lubriderm on my entire body every.single.day. And still I feel dry. We are going through Eucerin cream like nobody's business and Johnson & Johnson's pink baby lotion is also a hot commodity in these parts.
It's the minerals in the water coupled with the lack of moisture in the air that leave our bodies so depleted of moisture. To drink the water here it needs to be distilled or run through a Brita filter. So every other day we refill (over and over again) the Brita pitcher we have so that we can use the filtered water to fill the 2 1/2 gallon drinking container we have in the fridge that we all use to refill our water bottles. Four weeks in and already it's getting old.
The one good thing about dry air? No need for coasters. I was telling my mom and sister that it's the weirdest thing- I can bring a cup into my bedroom, set it on my nightstand and leave it there all night with no cup ring. No condensation gathers on the outside of my water bottle either. It's strange.
Besides the dryness and the drinking water, I have had to adjust to being shocked all the time. Touch a doorknob? SHOCK. Touch the baby? SHOCK. Kiss my husband? SHOCK. Turn on the faucet & check to see if the water is warm enough for the baby? SHOCK. Yes, I even get shocked BY THE WATER! It's so obnoxious!
About a week ago during nap time I was watching the snowplow after a really bad wind storm. He worked tirelessly pushing the huge drifts this way & that, attempting to smooth out the main road that leads from the front of our house to the airport. I found myself feeling really bad for the plow man, having to do the same job over and over, knowing that as perfect as he gets the road today, by tomorrow it could be like he'd done nothing.
Then I stopped for a second and thought about how my life is exactly the same. I wake up and feed the same children who, three hours later, are going to want to be fed again. Then I put their dirty clothes in the washer and dryer, fold them & put them away, knowing as I do that they will just end up in the laundry again tomorrow. I clean the kitchen table & dishes after every meal, and sometimes as fast as I can clean them, they are dirty again.
Yes, my life is eerily similar to that of the Marshall snow plow man.
Like Groundhog's Day.
But at night, when I lay down my head, I smile because I know that this is all I ever wanted. To fold tiny laundry & wash tiny bowls, to wipe little fingers & cut little toe nails, to care for & love our little ones while they are still so precious.
Before I go to bed each night, I peek out our bedroom window, hoping to never take for granted the beauty. The colors of the sunset & the glory of the moon & stars continue to amaze me. I could take a picture every night, it's so beautiful.
The other night, as I wrote in my hope & a future post, I geared up so I could sneak outside for a minute. Before I left, I had Josh take this picture of me. I was wearing: underwear, a nursing tank top, a long sleeve shirt, a fleece jacket, cordoroy pants, my snow pants, wool socks, boots, my coat, two pair of gloves, two hats, a scarf & my hood. Layering is essential in these parts.
Layering with the kids is even more intense. I often have them in four layers on top and two pair of socks. But if I don't take such extreme measures, they end up with a cold rash. It's like a red raised rash that is dry & very sensitive to touch. The first few times we took the boys out, they had it on most of their bodies when we came back. (Just the older boys, though.) So we take drastic measures now to ensure they don't get it. The other day they wore long john's, fleece pants and snow pants, and still had the rash on their bums & baby love handles!
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| {one of the photos I got of Venus & the moon the other night} |
We met some kids at the school when we went to meet Josh's class who had frost bite on their face. I guess the cold streak they've been having is one of the longest they've had in recent memory and it shows. Josh said it's common for the cheeks to have it, or the wrists if you are out in the cold weather on your snowmobile or "snow-go" as they call them. Brr! Josh said the younger kids make it worse by picking at it, which isn't good. I'd like to avoid that all together by layering and avoiding going out when the weather is too extreme.
We also had to switch our routine to baths every other day instead of everyday. The minerals and warm water together were drying their skin out so that the cold rash wouldn't improve. Now we lotion everyday, and bathe every other day. It seems to be helping.
We also have to push chapstick. I have chapsticks everywhere. I am constantly telling them to put it on because their little lips get all red & swollen, and eventually they peel, which hurts.
While there has definitely been some adjustments to living here, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. To spend the afternoon yesterday, while the wind howled just beyond the playroom window, watching the boys play basketball with their daddy, shouting, "Watch, Dad!" "Hey, daddy, look what I can do!" is worth the price of 60 chapstick tubes & twelve layers of clothing.
