State of resilience.

It was a wicked wind that tore through town.

And with it, a swirling snowstorm.

Gazing out the window from the safety and warmth of the indoors, I watched in awe as Mother Nature took her toll on my small town of Soldotna.

Cars in ditches, ill-equipped passerby getting pummeled in the face with furious flurries, and roads clogged up with snow were common from my perch at the window.

As I watched, rapt, nose pressed against the glass, I nonetheless smiled.

Call me crazy, but this is what I call a proper Alaskan winter. And it’s been too long since we’ve had one.

When I first moved to Alaska many years ago (what is it.. 22 years now?), winters up here were absolutely legendary.

I remembered storms like this as a commonality. I remember feet of snow creating magnificent berms best used for snow forts and snowball fights, and powder so gnar that skiers from all over would flock to experience it in all its glory.

But then, the world started changing. More specifically, the climate started to change. And these famously celebrated winters became somewhat a thing of the past.

Snow became minimal. Temperatures were drastic; either averaging a nippy negative 30 degrees for weeks on end, or unusually high temperatures of 40 degrees making January look like breakup season (spring).

Then this year, some wicked wind tore through town.

And with it, a swirling snowstorm.

Caught off guard, as it’s been so many years since I’ve seen snow of this magnitude come through, it took some time for me to properly adjust.

My fair weather Fiat couldn’t quite make it out of the driveway on multiple occasions, and I found myself working the shovel late into the night more often than not.

(speaking of- bless my neighbors for coming over to snow-blow every time I’m out there with said shovel. Though I am certainly not struggling, I’ll take all the help I can get!)

Which just reminds me: Alaska is made up of resilience.

More specifically: Alaskans are resilient.

I’ve always known this wasn’t an easy place to live.

Having been lucky enough to spend time living in other parts of the world, I’ve had the opportunity to experience different ways of living. And though every city comes with its own set of challenges, I’ve always appreciated the way of life in this splendid state.

I’ve always preferred the threat of running into a bear than a crazy homeless man on drugs (which I have experienced both of). I’ve always preferred the sound of silence to the hustle and bustle of clubs at midnight, the blare of sirens at 1am, and the sound of drunken voices at 2am. I’ve always preferred a life of simplicity and goodness than being constantly bombarded with inauthenticity where one touts status with designer handbags and number of followers on Tik Tok.

Living here is not for the faint of heart. It takes someone with gumption, bravery, patience, and most importantly: resilience.

It’s the dead of winter and one of the most depressing times of the year in this intimidating state. The darkness and the cold… it’s a lot, and though I long for warmth and the simple pleasure of feeling sun on my skin, I know that once we make it through this season, we will be rewarded with a most magnificent summer.

This snowstorm reminded me that it takes a tough cookie to live here. And if my friendly neighbors with the snow blower taught me anything, it’s that we’re all in this together.

Truly, there is snowplace like home.