All we want for solstice is more light
The longest night is upon us, and that means seconds, minutes, and hours of sunlight will slowly, steadily return. Long nights bring their own enlightening rewards, though, and light comes to us in many ways. Here, the folks at Trustees share their stories of winter solstice light.
A cabin in the woods
Ashley Donovan, legal fellow
All I want for solstice is more cabin weekends with friends. Nothing brings more light to my life than evenings spent by the wood stove playing games in a public use cabin.
Fruit from Suzanne’s parent’s citrus trees! Photo by Suzanne Bostrom.
Citrus, please!
Suzanne Bostrom, senior staff attorney
More light for me means the return of winter citrus season and packing as many oranges from my parents’ citrus trees as possible into my Alaska-bound luggage around the holidays.
Michelle’s pups Chewy and Raven. Photo by Michelle Sinnott.
Sunrise walks with Chewy and Raven
Michelle Sinnott, staff attorney
My favorite thing about this time of year is going for an early morning walk with Chewy and Raven. We are at the trailhead before sunrise and before anyone else is up. We start our walk in darkness but always seem to find light. Sometimes we catch a glorious sunrise, but most of the time it’s just the joy of walking in the woods with my two favorite companions that helps lift the weight of the world from the shoulders.
Lighthearted laughs and proof of the existence of fairies
Joanna Cahoon, staff attorney
For me, more light means seeking as much levity as possible. I’ve been watching standup comedy specials like Fortune Feimster’s “Sweet and Salty,” and planning trips, baking, and getting together with friends for loud crowded dinner parties.
The kids are also great at keeping things lighthearted. We have been going on “adventure walks” with a portable microscope to search for anything interesting including creatures real and imagined. So far, we have found animal tracks, ice formations, and proven the existence of fairies through an immutable scientific experiment (crumbs we left in front of a suspected fairy house inexplicably disappeared).
Megan and Maple ice skating, photo by Joseph Ren.
Skating on ice
Megan Mason Dister, legal fellow
More light to me this winter means more time ice skating on frozen lakes and lagoons (a.k.a. hockey mountaineering as my husband Joseph calls it). Even with the shortening days, and the lack of snow this winter, we’ve loved being outside skating.
Lachlan and lights. Photo by Ashley Boyd
The kid’s first Christmas
Ashley Boyd, administrative director
More light for me means looking at Christmas lights with my kid for the 1st time. I love family traditions during the dark time of year, and spending that time with Lachlan and Colin!
From the narrow to fever dreams
Siobhan’s family Christmas tree, Photo by Siobhan McIntyre.
Siobhan McIntyre, staff attorney
In the mid-winter months, the light narrow is narrow – a small aperture that frames home, holidays, crafts, clutter, and cabin fever. It’s Christmas bulbs and headlamps and short walks at noon in the tepid light of a low-slung sun. With more light, there’s a broader lens that captures a gradual increase in activity and the outside world with skiing, sledding, skating and then the ascent of the fever dreams of spring (this year we’ll do all the things!!) and the much-awaited arrival of summer. Hear hear to more light!
Bridget heading up Manitoba for a sunset ski around 3pm. Photo credit: Anna Frick.
Bluebird pow pow days
Bridget Psarianos, senior staff attorney
All I want for Christmas is more bluebird powder days! More light during the winter solstice always makes me think of skiing and the race to make it back to the car before dark.
Maddy’s painting of Mt. Alyeska, photo by Maddy Grosvenor.
The light is everywhere
Madison Grosvenor, communications specialist
It’s my first winter in Alaska, and I can’t help but constantly look up in awe at the mountains lit up with snow. I am hoping for some more major “pinch-me” moments this winter. You can find me looking for light through my rose-tinted goggles on powder days, going for moonlit skis, and sunset hiking to catch the alpenglow.
The shorter days also inspire me to look for the light in different ways, like capturing it. Cozying up and painting Alaska is the next best thing to being up in the mountains.
Annie, Frida, and Lexi on a cold winter’s walk. Photo by Dawnell Smith
Animal camaraderie
Dawnell Smith, communications director
Nothing brings more light to dusk and darkness than dogs sniffing, leaping, and tussling about in the glow of animal camaraderie and curiosity.
Annie, Frida and Lexi always take a few breaks from rough play at the dog park to smell the stories left in snow.