Excuse me while I wax poetic

Each day grows longer. Long nights wane toward their eventual fate — a dim memory of itself in the summer. The Winter Queen’s hold on the land slips as her minions of frost, snow and bitter cold give way to the Prince of Breakup. His job is to pave the way for the Lord of the Summer. His minions — thaw, rain and mud — creep in to loosen the Queen’s cold iron grip. They are allied with the steady growth of the sun’s strength as the daylight hours lengthen and temperatures rise.

Oh, she is very stubborn. Her ally, the Night, can take those warm days and plunge them back into bitter cold, freezing up everything that has melted before. Slush returns to hard frozen ice, puddles return to rock-hard slickness and everyone bundles back up to endure it all. It is, of course, a losing battle. The Night’s time here is weakening; soon he will be whittled down to a faint version of himself — Twilight.

Alaska is re-awakening at last. The trees and bushes begin to bud even now with much of the Winter’s handiwork still all around. But the land knows that her reign here is coming to an end. The animals know it. The birds coming up from the south know it as they begin to return in greater numbers. Even the earth begins to reappear under old trees, first as patches of brown, wet mud. As the snow retreats it begins to spread. As it thaws, it dries out and loosens, setting the stage for plant growth. Lake ice will thin and crack, rivers once frozen will also slowly break out of the Queen’s prison of ice, and waterfalls will begin to flow once more.

It affects even the two-legged creatures who call this place home, we humans. We will no longer have to wear layers upon layers of thick clothing just to spend an hour outdoors. Thick gloves and woolen caps give way to lighter headwear and even lighter gloves, if any. Snow boots are slowly replaced by hiking shoes, and sometimes even honest to goodness loafers. People begin to awaken from the months-long endurance test of winter. They show up in the town, eyes blinking in the bright sun and marvel at the warmth. The see old friends and shed the winter’s thick clothing for lighter, brighter expressions of fabric. Like everything else, people are beginning to see the light and the Winter Queen’s demise.

The Prince of Breakup will have a very short time to prepare for his lordship’s arrival. When that happens, he will jump aside — willingly — with a flourish, a sly wink and a bow. Then the Lord of the Summer will take over. The land will explode with all manner of greenery. Bears will come out of their dens. Moose will give birth to the next generation. Fish will return to their streams. The hills and valleys themselves will be alive with birds, blooms and blossoms. The seas will be alive with the smallest of creatures to the largest of whales. The ice, both on water and in the mountains, will retreat to end up nothing but a memory (except those of the glaciers, as little can harm them here). The sun shall reign supreme for a time, the night dimmed to a feeble twilight.

People will celebrate. They will go out camping and hiking. Streams, rivers and lakes will be flush with fishermen. Hunters will brave all for the kill and to put food on the table. Tourists will arrive in vast numbers to “ooh” and “ah” at the wonders of Alaska, some for the first time. Highways will fill with packed cars, buses and all sorts of vehicles out to seek and explore. Fishing boats will compete with huge tour ships on the cold, blue waters. The days will be long and the nights short.

The Lord of Summer will rule only for a fleeting time. All who live here know this. He will reluctantly give way to the artistic talents of the Grand Maiden of Autumn and her palette of fall colors. It is her calling to make way for the return of the Winter Queen, painting tree and bush with vibrant fall colors with a frost0-tinted brush. The Night shall return and the Day shall retreat. Termination dust will shower the mountaintops like white frosting, telling all to make way for the Queen’s return to the land.

So continues the never-ending dance of Alaska’s seasons.

Wasilla resident Daniel D. Grota is retired from the U.S. Army after more than 21 years of service.