Aurora Borealis

October 12, 2015January 25, 2023 ~ Crystle ~ Leave a comment

I don’t think these Northern Lights will ever get old. I’ll always enjoy watching them, but I know as the temperatures drop here in Interior Alaska, the desire to sit outside for an hour shooting them will fade. Last week was the perfect climate for catching the Lights show.

Snow from a week ago had mostly melted off, leaving our grass once again exposed. Warmer nights (only dropping to the low 30s) meant down parkas and snow pants stayed in the closet, while we reached instead for vests, light hats, and fleece jackets and gloves. Any colder out, and my fingers would have turned to numb useless nubs, my camera battery would have drained, and my damp hair would have frozen. I don’t know how more disciplined aurora chasers tolerate the freezing temperatures closer to the winter solstice.

So here I present to you the Northern Lights, from October 6, 2015. Hopefully more to come, since this is our last season in Alaska, for now.

And in case you missed it, Isaac and I changed our residency to Alaska. We are coming back to settle down here after his military service ends (not for a few more duty stations, unfortunately). Sorry California and Oklahoma family, but something about this wild, Libertarian place has really appealed to our frontier sensibilities. It must be a mix of the bold folks who live here, the pristine tundra, and the bountiful wildlife and the lack of fashion rules that have really got us dreading the adjustment back to the lower 48 next year.

I’ll miss this one day.

Autumn in Alaska for the Ardoin’s

August 31, 2015 ~ Crystle ~ 1 Comment

Hey there, Friends and Family. It’s been a sporadic year of blog posting over here. My apologies.

It’s been a busy summer. Pop up Camping, hiking, site-seeing with Family, and even berry picking have filled our long Midnight sun days. But the summer days are officially behind us now.

This is our third autumn/winter here in Alaska, and also our last. It’s taken a few seasons, but I’ve finally tuned in to the seasonal rhythms here.

When the last of the fireweed blooms out, winter is only six weeks away, local folklore has it. Those pretty magenta petals all dropped a couple of weeks ago. The days are thankfully getting shorter, making these autumn days in Alaska resemble normal circadian rhythms in the lower 48. It won’t be too much longer before we’re plunged into darkness.

Having been here a couple of seasons, I’ve come to realize we live under a Canadian Goose migration path (I would love to hear more about this from you avid Birders out there!). This time of year, every night between 9:50 pm and 10:10 pm without fail, one flock of geese per night flights over our house, from the north to the south. They honk in a steady meter. When I hear them overhead, I know it’s time to get into bed. When they stop flying over, I know winter is officially upon us.

Little by little every day, the axis of the earth tilts Alaska further away from the sun. In the evenings, I see the sun fall onto the south east corner of my sitting room downstairs. In a week or so, the stairwell will be full of golden hour sunlight. The fiery stairwell seems to last ten days or so, until we’re a little more established in winter.

Cycling out summer clothes for winter wardrobes is already done. Bye bye, Chacos, it’s time for flats and booties. While we’re not quite ready for snow boots, it’s chilly enough to pack away our open toed, summer-loving shoes.

The leaves are starting to change, too. When we first moved here, the hills were a polychromatic wonder — oranges and yellows, bronzes and golds dominated the landscape before the trees dropped all their leaves and snow buried them beneath their drifts. Each year on our Alaska-anniversary (and Woods’ birthday), the leaves drop colorful confetti on us. It’s brilliant.

For Yea Yea Photography’s final fall in Alaska, I’m collaborating with a local company Oma + Jo on their Autumn/Winter line. I think it’s an auspicious way to start out our final trip around the sun in the Arctic. YYP’s sessions are all booked for September — so there will likely be some radio silence here at the Pueblo until after all those galleries are delivered. Of course I’ll make an exception for Woods’ one year milestone session.

Happy Autumn, Friends!

A Day in the Life

March 9, 2015 ~ Crystle ~ 6 Comments

2015-03-09_0008

I’ve been a Cheechako for eighteen months, officially. When you’re new to Alaska the locals call you a Cheechako. It’s only after you’ve been through a full summer and winter cycle that you graduate to ‘Sourdough’. Even though my family is wrapping up our second winter here, we’re part of Fairbanks’ transient population and for that reason I don’t feel seasoned enough to call myself a Sourdough.

Our second winter was easier than the first, mostly because our expectations were born from experience: chronic sub-zero temps, and darkness before and after the winter solstice really dominate the landscape and mood. I gave birth to my second child here, too, permanently solidifying my connection to this land. The cold and isolating Alaskan winters are arduous for this native Southern Californian, but they have their merits, too.

Aurora Borealis, which is said to be ancestors celebrating earthly events, came out in full force the week my baby Woodrow was born, and a few glorious shows in my city neighborhood have occurred in the six months since. It still wasn’t easy being stuck indoors with a newborn (Welcome to the World, Woodrow!) and a bold toddler (Climb down from there, Margot!), all while running my Photography Business, Yea Yea Photography.

My winter days are spent cooped up indoors, trying to find a balance between managing my home, playing with my kids and growing a creative business. My summer days in Alaska are precious. They’re reserved for accumulating outdoor experiences. They’re for wildlife viewing, Denali camping, and farmers market falafel eating! They’re for trail running, berry picking, and hiking. They’re currency and compensation for six long months of winter.

We don’t know where the Army will send us after our time here (a year and a half from now), but it will likely be less dynamic than Alaska. The lessons learned here on seizing the day will never be forgotten, and maybe after I leave I’ll finally feel confident to call myself a Sourdough. 2015-03-09_0010