Life begins at 55

Resslin' Around, by Casey Ressler

Fifty-five. It's where life evidently begins in the Valley.

Ask any senior, and they are liable to tell you life begins at 55 -- years. Ask a young teen who first gets a drivers' license, and they'll tell you the fun starts at 55 -- miles per hour. But ask just about any other person in the Valley, and their answer will be simple about when things really start heating up -- at 55 degrees.

Last Saturday, as the mercury inched its way up the thermometer, activity started to bustle. Although the calendar says it has been spring for a while, Saturday was the first day in which it felt like spring. The agenda for the day seemed to include plenty of time spent in the sun, too.

Fifty-one, the thermometer read. Time to load up the truck and head north on the highway, just to check out how the Talkeetna River is looking, and to see if any other creeks are opening up and begging to be fished for rainbows.

Fifty-two. Time to come back home after the first meaningful half-hour conversation about fishing with a complete stranger, after which you feel like a good friend, simply because you were both standing there with fly rods in hand and the look of anticipation on your faces -- like young kids on Christmas Eve.

Fifty-three. Time to dig through the shed -- and move the snow blower out, thankfully -- and find the propane grill. Warm weather means barbecues, and you have to be prepared to party. It's also time to watch as people in the neighborhood start their own spring projects -- a deck renovation, an addition to a house, some dirt work in the yard.

Fifty-four. Time for your 17-month-old daughter to enjoy the first mud puddle of her life, and splash a smile on your face as you watch curiosity get the best of her. Last summer, she couldn't walk yet, and the great outdoors were a foreign place. This summer, exploration is the name of the game, and the puddles look as big as the Atlantic Ocean when you are only a tad over 2-feet tall.

Fifty-four and a half. Time for the mud puddle to get the best of your young daughter, as she slips on a rock and falls in the water, covering herself from head to toe in a brown mixture of mud and water spotted with leftover snow. Resisting the urge to let her sit there while you run in the house to get the digital camera, the regular camera, the video camera and every other imaging device in the house to record this great moment, you help her up and head inside to change her.

Fifty-five. Ah, the sweet feeling of the coming of summer. Sipping lemonade in the driveway, cleaning out the truck and organizing the shed, you realize you have been outside for two hours without a coat, the snow is almost completely gone, and you are mentally making plans for weekends in June, July and August.

It seems like every other person is also outside, basking in the sun and enjoying the moment.

It's about as close to perfect as you can get, but you know its Alaska, and anything can happen.

So naturally, the next day it rains.

Casey Ressler (valleylife@frontiersman.com) is the Valley Life editor.