Sunday, September 16, 2012

Guess It Can Get Dark Here

“So this is what Haines looks like in the dark,” mumbled my brain as I stepped out into the lower 40 degree weather. Over the summer, darkness had become the exception as the near-midnight-sun prevailed (not in totality, we're not high enough) and I learned to expect the 2:30 AM sunrise to wake me.

It was well past 8:24 PM and time had certainly slipped away from me. Although I had been off work since 5 PM, life had found me curled up on the cushy couch in the living room of the office with letters and my favourite book from my childhood that I was reading for the 14th time.


Oh man - me and the rain, we so chill! My wardrobe, today, was a wee bit devoted to it. At this point in time, I rarely feel secure leaving without being prepared to dripping-weather that tends to turn-downpour on me.

The joys about rain are that you get to choose to embrace it or reject it.
Today, I decided I rather liked it (as I generally do).

I pulled on my gear and headed out the door to wander around Haines before hopping on my bicycle. Coat zipped up to my lips. Hood up. I struggled to tuck my mittens into my sleeve.

And away I went.

It had been pouring for over six hours and puddles consistently swallowed my feet up, up to my ankles. I thanked my $2 boots  from the thrift-store over in the Yukon in Whitehorse.

I realized, for the first time in a while, what darkness meant. I peered into a ditch and couldn’t see anything within it. I couldn’t see the dead-squished-up-decomposing-frog that I knew was going to be on the third bend up Cathedral on the right-hand lane when going up the hill. The world didn't just reveal itself to me.

The darkness hides. I can’t take for granted seeing every detail of my town anymore.

I also realized that this darkness was going to be a daytime reality, this coming winter.

I tried to imagine what it would be like for it to be this dark at 4 PM.

To be Frank (or Henry, or Tesla, or Benjamin), I’m rawther excited. Mind you, I’ve barely experienced the dark in months so it’s a bit of a novelty, still, but I figure it’s never too early to try and get my optimism kickstarted.

I really appreciated the darkness. It felt calm and peaceful as I lumbered around in my compact body-tent. The gold street lamps got Christmas carols bouncing about in my head.

We're going to embrace this upcoming season.

Side Note: Today is my fifth month in Haines anniversary.

1 comment:

  1. :) Hey Magi! Wish we had gotten to know each other better while I was still in Haines, but I really enjoyed the little time I did spend with you.


Your words make me grin.

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