Showing posts from March, 2019

Sra Niday

“Sra Niday” means the sun is shining in our local Hän language. And it really did, for weeks. I don’t know Hän for “How the hell can it be summer already?” or “Jesus Christ, is that a mosquito?”  

Things have got out of hand. A warm chinook wind roared through, hot as a hair dryer. The snow is melting, the trails have gone slushy, our meat’s thawing and there are spots opening in the creek. It’s May in March and we are reeling with it.

Across river, the cliffs rumble and crack with avalanches. 

Earlier in the month, we had the most astounding March weather. Days bright enough to hurt your eyes and skies so deep you feel you can fall up into them. 

The nights were ice cold and clear, down to twenty below with a hazy green aurora rippling in a wide arc around the North Pole, brushing the tops of the hills. 

Our mornings were dusted with frost, floating from the trees like blossom petals and the most amazing, blazing, red and white-gold sun dogs.

We took advantage of the incredible wea…