Growing up in Bakersfield, CA means I’m well conditioned to brutally hot summers and cool foggy winters: those are pretty much the only two seasons we saw down there, and they were painfully redundant.

Two hour fog delays were common anytime visibility dropped in the valley from the phenomena, which made it a welcome happenstance for city kids, and probably a nuisance for adults who didn’t get to share in the weather delay. This was our weather ‘thing’ and we were all used to it.

Nowadays, I realize that I can no longer be comfortable in weather patterns like I was in California. And gone are the days where I could mark the passage of time by distinct periods of fall, winter, spring and summer like I did while living in Oklahoma.

My one surety is knowing I’ll be nomadic for the foreseeable future while my husband serves our country. Did I mention we’re heading to Alaska next October?  We are, and that assignment has me both excited and terrified at the prospect of extreme Alaskan weather patterns as we build a life for our young family on the Last Frontier.

Those thoughts have been heavy on my mind lately, so to be greeted by that old familiar Bakersfield-type fog over our new neighborhood was comforting. After filling out my absentee ballot and handing it off to my diligent husband to fax off, I took a stroll on the William B. Ives trail just a few hundred yards from our front door.

I wanted to walk in the foggy woods because I wasn’t sure when I’d have the chance to do so again. Bakersfield fog hangs around awhile, but Puget Sound Fog? I have no idea. During my stroll, low fog hugged the tall evergreens as I walked slowly below. I caught glimpses of mushroom clusters and thick hanging moss that made me wonder what life will bring in Alaska, and beyond.

No matter what, one more year in Washington means I’ll have plenty of time to travel to the nooks and crannies that I’ve yet to visit around here, and I’ll have ample time to plan and dream about our future three year stint in Alaska with our upcoming bundle of joy, Margot.