Fifty Degrees Below Zero

After I wrote my 'I hate spring and summer' poem the other day, I was thinking of another I wrote about 16 years go when we lived in North Pole, Alaska. It's at the opposite end of the seasonal spectrum and was written before I experienced any sort of environmental allergies--those didn't begin until we left Alaska and went back to the Lower 48. Autumn and winter were still my favourite seasons, but I did not dislike summer as much as I do now. Summers were short and even the 24 hours of daylight didn't bother me. Still, I loved the winter days when we had about 3 hours of weak daylight and I loved the crisp, cold air. Winter lasted from late September or early October until April-ish when break-up started. Everyone prepared for winter and was used to very cold temperatures. Schoolchildren would go outside for recess unless it was colder than -20(F). We knew to expect some seriously cold weather (-40F) for a stretch in January. One year, our cold snap dipped down to -50 or so for a time. When it broke, it went quickly and in a matter of hours, it was -10 and then 0. Bill and I were outside at midnight shovelling snow in T-shirts. By the tail end of every winter, 0 felt quite warm. My decade in Alaska my be one reason why I have so little tolerance for heat now. I start to get grumpy when it's in the 50s and 60 is too hot for me. I sometimes miss the cold, but when I feel nostalgia for those days, I remember that living in that kind of cold requires a lot of thought, care, nd preparation, and that it can wear one down after a while.This is especially true when one is living without running water as we were and has to haul it. Turns out that 5-and 7-gallon jugs of water are heavy to carry and very, very cold in winter! We had a septic tank, so unlike many others there did not have to dash to an out house, which I was very grateful for! Of course, with the climate emergency, those cold days may soon be gone forever. Anyway, here's the poem I wrote one day when even I was tired of the cold! I'd forgotten what that felt like. 😉

50 Degrees Below Zero

The brownish haze hangs heavy

like a veil in the sky,

a blanket of car exhaust and wood smoke

at fifty degrees below zero.

I take a deep breath

and feel shards of air

scraping my skin

and tumbling into my lungs.

Too cold outside even for the frost

which creeps into the house,

spreading around doorknobs

and growing up windows.

The cold seems to stretch to forever

as I begin to wonder

if it will ever be warm enough

for me to see clearly again.

January 19, 2004

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