In the grip of the Winter Queen

She is fickle. She is harsh. She is beautiful, and she rules here with a cold, iron fist.

She is the Winter Queen, ruler of this land we call Alaska.

She comes when she wants to. The Queen has no schedule, and she is reluctant to leave when spring and summer combine forces to insist she leave the land to bloom and thrive for another season.

But when she does arrive at our doorstep, take care not to anger her or give her slight. She is a true force of nature, one to be reckoned with fear and deep respect. To do anything less is to court her wrath even unto death. As much as the Queen is feared, she is also loved.

She brings the deep cold of the Arctic north. The gales that blast us with winds that can try a man’s soul bring with them snow that carpets the land in a deep white coat of peaceful snow and grace the mountains in thick ice and bright snow that are measured in feet, not inches.

We love her because of the games we can play here while she rules. The sounds of snowmachines slice the crisp air. Snowshoe hikers plod the back trails safe from the bears that choose to sleep away this time in their dens. Skiers, both Alpine and cross-country, plow through the deepening powder on mountainsides and flattened, groomed trails.

Hikers like myself bundle up and walk the trail with hiking staff in hand to see the wonders of light and animal life that endure it all in the endless fight to survive. It’s the thrill of chancing upon a moose and calf, gliding through the dense snow like ghosts, they nibbling on branches and old willow tips. They display a fluid grace that belays their size. Sled-dog teams live for this. This is their time under the low, cold winter sun, itching for the chance to test their mettle during the Last Great Race of all, one that pits men and dogs against the Winter Queen herself — the Iditarod.

It is not easy to endure all the Queen flings at us, yet we do.

The deep, bitter cold can kill if it is not prepped for. The windstorms can blast us with hurricane-force winds and gusts. They can last for days and roar through the deepening darkness of night, sculpting the snow into fantastic shapes. They make dunes and drifts that can pile high like sands in a distant desert. All can freeze any exposed flesh in minutes or seconds.

And then there is the cold. A deep, dry cold that can plunge to temperature 20, 30, or 40 degrees below zero. She sends this to us all on those clear days and moonlight-filled nights. But at times there is a beautiful trade-off, the northern lights, a gift from the Creator to be shown in the clear night skies.

When the sun flings bits of itself out into the void of space, the shimmering curtains of light fill the air. They are undulating ribbons of light from the sun, and if one is still and very quiet they can be heard as well. The sound of their static discharge is there, but only if one takes the time to be still and silent. It is a sight and sound that can humble anyone graced by this gift from the Creator of us all. Even the Winter Queen appears to be humbled by the northern lights. She is, after all, a creation of his dogs and she knows it.

These are the days of the Winter Queen, rejoice or hide in despair. We all must abide her rule, until spring and summer join to push her away for another season.

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