Tales of the beautiful everyday from the North
A sight for sore eyes
After just the night before being out until almost 4am, this was a sight for the sorest of eyes.
We were already on our way out of town early, and before we could get too far, we made an abrupt stop at a small pullout just off the Ingraham Trail. Within just some seconds, the sky began to light up and dance. The aurora took over the entire sky. It was literally breathtaking.
You’ll never hear me ‘rate’ a night or compare nights, but this was overwhelming, even for me. I didn’t know where to look, where to photograph, how to absorb every moment of it. It was magic. It really just felt like magic.
And after the half hour or so show, I just couldn’t get over how different night to night this experience could be. It is just the best.
The daylight saving time dread
I wasn’t going to do it this year, I really wasn’t. I was just going to let the daylight saving time change pass without it’s annual mention on this blog.
BC had announced they are remaining permanently on daylight saving time, and then the very next day, I wrote a lengthy and exhaustive email to the Government of the Northwest Territories urging them not to make the same mistake, and then I was just going to leave it. I wasn’t going to bring it up on my blog this year again too.
However, shortly after we did once again insist on taking ourselves further off solar time, we had the kind of night which would have been much less painful on standard time. It was the kind of night that demanded a lot of patience, still in the -30s of course. Hours passed and passed but we remained, and finally passing 3am, we were there under exactly what we had been waiting so long for. But the 4am return to town, at the end of an exhausting season through a never ending winter, cumulatively, does take a toll.
The most beautiful everyday
Sometimes these posts write themselves and what I want to say flows effortlessly. And for other times, it feels like I’ll never put it together.
I’ve had this night of images sitting here for more than a week, and every morning after I’ve answered emails and taken care of all the photos from the night before, I come back to this post ready to begin writing and I haven’t actually been able to write anything at all.
Not every night has some dramatic movement with the weather or miraculous timing to talk about. There isn’t always some rush or natural high that keeps me awake for long after I get back home. Sometimes our nights just flow easily, everything is in good time, the company feels genuinely special, and the night really does feel like it shouldn’t ever have to end.
It is the beautiful everyday I humbly know I am so lucky to have. And as we approach the end of another season, they too are the nights I will take away with me deep in my heart at the end of all of this, whenever that comes.
March; for better and for worse
Every day a little more snow and ice has disappeared from my front patio. Real warmth is still a long ways away, but the subtle signs of winter beginning to loosen it’s grip even at -20° feels like relief.
Our nights have continued to be nothing but the -30s, and with that has come almost constant clear sky for which I am so thankful. We’ve made our switch back to daylight saving time, deepening what feels like an already endless exhaustion from late, late nights.
The early March full moon reminds me of how close we are now to another aurora season drawing to a close. It’s just one month, but the difference between the February and March full moons feel dramatic. The moon remains lower in the sky again, and it’s light so much warmer.
I’ve spent my days at home hiding on my sofa at the north side of my home for the darker room in the morning. It’s the only way to edit photos from the night before. And once those are finished, I move to the other side of my galley kitchen to my dining table, soaking up the sun and warmth at my south facing window, writing emails and sipping a second coffee.
I cherish these slow mornings at home so much.
March has felt overwhelming, daunting and far too busy. I hate the strong sunlight outside that reflects off the snow, and I hate that this spring sunlight has reminded me so much of 4 years ago when I was heartbroken packing up my life to leave because of Covid.
But all of this will pass - the non-stop work, the harsh sunlight, the painful memories and feelings. It’s still a beautiful time, these weeks, and there’s a lot of peaceful moments woven into each day that I still savour too.
Holding my nerve
I was back in the kitchen over the stove again making candied almonds. It was midday, so there would be no late evening crises this time. After about 15 minutes, I watched the sugar finally begin to solidify and I knew I had to hold my nerve and continue on until the sugar began to melt again. Don’t burn the almonds, don’t burn the almonds, don’t burn the almonds. It’s such a fine line, but they’re just not the same without these last 5 minutes in the pan.
As the evening got later, I started to get more and more nervous about the weather. We were finally breaking from our stretch of clear sky into a couple nights of high-level cloud and light snow. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t perfect. There were moments we needed to wait through quieter auroral conditions, chase some clear sky but still wait out other heavier cloud. It was exactly when I needed to hold my nerve, take my intuition to heart and head east, which is exactly what we did for a couple of still magical, magical nights with the aurora.
