green lining.

a song to set the scene // hope by the old sea brigade

It was 37 degrees when I walked outside this morning.

Now 37 degrees might not sound that bad, but when it’s January in Alaska?

It’s not normal. It’s unseasonably bizarre weather. It simply isn’t right! However you’d like to identify it, 37 degrees in January in Alaska is unheard of.

“Weather” we like it or not, it’s evident our climate is changing.

While California is on fire and Florida is wracking up more snow than we have here, our community has been watching in confusion as our temperatures read 37 degrees in January.

Our lawns are green, the roads are clear, and when I walked outside today, I heard birds.

I heard birds chirping like it was spring.

In January.

In Alaska.

What is going on?

I do my part for the environment: I drive an electric car, recycle, plant trees, shop with reusable bags, and am about to open up a business heavily supplied by used goods, and yet it feels like I’m not having any impact.

Clearly.

If it’s 37 degrees in January in Alaska.

It’s frustrating, watching the world burn.

Literally.

It feels hopeless sometimes, knowing my contribution is but a drop of water in an over-fished and over-polluted ocean.

(but that’s a whole other subject)

So again, what is going on?

It’s clear our climate is changing. No amount of sugarcoating or blaming it elsewhere is going to change the fact that every year, we’re breaking weather records.

And while it may feel defeating, heck depressing, I have to find some silver lining, or I will go crazy.

We all will.

I do what I can as a citizen, as a human being blessed to live life on this earth. I’m vocal about my efforts, and try to inspire some proactive movement in this small community I call home.

And to avoid going crazy, I look for the silver linings.

I heard birds chirping today like it was spring.

Birds singing, in January, in Alaska.

What a sweet treat.

What a delectable little morsel to hear in a notoriously dark, cold, and dreary season.

The roads are clear, in January, in Alaska.

How lucky am I that I get to drive to work on safe roads during an infamously dangerous time of year?

It’s pouring rain, in January, in Alaska.

Oh how the air smells so clean and fresh, during a month where temperatures typically drop below zero, freezing one’s nose hairs and prohibiting smell?

There’s always a silver lining.

In this case, the lining is green, like the lawn outside my window.

And I accept that, “weather” I like it or not.

That’s sometimes all we can do.