The Four Seasons of Alaska

Yes, Alaska does have four seasons. Some last longer than others, like winter which is the longest at six months. But each is distinct from the others and has different rhythms and elicits different emotions. See for yourself as you view the portfolios of seasonal images that were photographed for twelve months starting in October of 2006.

Spring in Alaska

Starting in April, we have begun to peel back the many layers of winter, and slowly remove the veil that covered the landscape for nearly six months. This is a slow, deliberate process in Alaska that will unfold over several weeks, unlike the nearly overnight winter-to-summer transition that has become the norm back east; for many, spring no longer exists.

Observing the changing of the seasons was one of the reasons I moved to Alaska. It’s like watching an artist create a beautiful mosaic on canvas with oils. Each day - even each hour - brings subtle strokes of creation and rebirth. In spring this painting is stoked by the newfound warmth of the sun caused by the lengthening daylight: the melting snows revealing the hardy flora beneath; the red buds on the trees nearly bursting in anticipation of spring yet contrasting sharply against the remaining snows of winter; the snowshoe hare’s white coat becoming mottled with brown and black to match the landscape; the thunderous sounds of “breakup” as the ice clears on rivers and inlets; the emergence of the hibernating bears; the return of migrating birds; animals seeking mates; and the birth of the next generation. Every movement forward is hard fought, but worth the effort.

With joy, determination, lots of hard work, and some luck, I hope to bring to you some images that will awaken the spring in all of us.

Summer in Alaska

If you did not notice the passing of June 21 on the calendar you would think that the transition to Summer from Spring in Alaska is subtle. And in some ways it is: the long daylight hours at first imperceptibly decline, the temperature really does not change all that much, mountaintop snow fields gradually shrink and disappear, and rivers continue to rise. Yet the energy level from Spring to Summer takes a quantum leap and the air is filled with the vitality of life. Perhaps it is most evident in the animals as they raise their young, or in the male moose as new velvety antlers grow, or in the runs of salmon up streams and rivers. Even the plants seem energized, at times becoming “supersized” in a matter of days. New wild flower blooms are revealing themselves daily, perhaps none so brilliantly as the appearance of alpine flowers only a few days after snow melt at high elevations. The shot of vibrant colors is a welcome change from the remains of Winter.

Hence, we arrive at the reason for all this frenetic activity. Nature instinctively knows that Summer is a short season in Alaska and Winter is not far behind. So for the plants and animals that must survive through the harsh winter, it is a time for rapid growth and weight gain: plants extending roots deeper into the ground; salmon fighting the fierce river currents to reach their birthplace to fertilize the next generation; moose growing the biggest antlers possible to compete in the Fall rut to attract a mate; parents guarding their offspring and teaching them how to forage and avoid predation; flowers waiting for bees, wind, or a passing animal to pollinate them so their seeds can develop and disperse.

So many wonderful, life affirming events are taking place that it reminds me of a quote from Elizabeth Barrett Browning:

“Earth’s crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God; But only he who sees takes off his shoes.”

Whether you literally take off your shoes to feel the earth beneath your feet, don’t let Summer’s calling escape you; take the time to see, hear, smell, touch, and taste the life that is Summer.

Fall in Alaska

Long before the Autumnal Equinox, Fall arrives in Alaska. The signs are everywhere: the fireweed flowers have reached the plant tops and some plants have even started producing their fluffy, cottony seed; the various shades of red begin their descent from the mountain tops to the valleys; a profusion of wild berries reach their peak of ripeness; mushrooms “magically” appear from the ground ready to disperse their spores; bull moose, decked out in large antlers, are eager to assert their dominance in the fall rut; the crisp nighttime air fills the river valleys with morning mist and dew; and animals large and small increase the intensity of their feeding and foraging in anticipation of the long, hard winter.

The list of seasonal markers is endless, and varies from person to person. Perhaps, Henry David Thoreau said it best about the changing of seasons:

"Each season is but an infinitesimal point. It no sooner comes than it is gone. It has no duration. It simply gives a tone and hue to my thought. Each annual phenomenon is a reminiscence and prompting. Our thoughts and sentiments answer to the revolutions of the seasons, as two cog-wheels fit into each other. We are conversant with only one point of contact at a time, from which we receive a prompting and impulse and instantly pass to a new season or point of contact. A year is made up of a certain series and number of sensations and thoughts which have their language in nature. Now I am ice, now I am sorrel. Each experience reduces itself to a mood of the mind."

Finally, here in Alaska, Fall is the briefest of seasons, and with so much going on, I find it the most exciting. Once again, I’ll try to capture some of that excitement.

Having won the lottery to drive the Denali National Park road on Sunday, September 16, I was excited to capture the wide ranging vistas of the Alaska Range with the remnants of fall colors and possibly some wildlife. Well, winter arrived early and with a vengeance that day. A few to several inches of snow fell at elevations above 3000 feet accompanied by high winds. Below 3000 feet, the rain and sleet moved horizontally. Pretty much the views were closed in by the inclement weather. Needless to say, it made for very difficult photographing. Fortunately, as I was heading south along the Parks highway the next couple of days, the weather cooperated. Herewith is the Fall Two portfolio.

In the mountains, space and time are interchangeable. No, this has nothing to do with Einstein’s general theory of relativity. What I mean by this is that as you move up or down a mountain, distance becomes converted to time. For example, in spring the valleys green up first and the colors move up the mountains as the snows melt. Therefore, the valley represents the season present and future and the mountaintop represents the season just passed. In the fall, the pattern is reversed; the fall colors move down the mountains to the valleys and are replaced by snow at the tops of the mountains. In this situation, time and space are reversed. Now, the valley represents the season present and about to pass, while the mountaintop represents the season to come.

Of course, all this has to do with losing three and one-half degrees Fahrenheit per thousand feet of elevation gain. As a consequence, two seasons can coexist, or overlap, in time. Do you want to see the future and what fate awaits the brilliant yellows, oranges, and reds of Fall? Then look up a few thousand feet from the valley to see Winter and what is coming, a couple or few weeks away. Can two seasons coexist in space as well as time? Sure, for example, when an early snowfall blankets the fall colors. The calendar says Fall, the landscape says Winter. Perhaps this is what Einstein meant by a space-time continuum?

Winter in Alaska

Winter’s colors range from subtle shades of grey, to soothing pastels, to vibrant, lush hues.

A cow moose was seen feeding on tree branches along the road leading to Hatcher Pass. She appears to be pregnant and will give birth in the spring. Last year’s youngster was feeding nearby. When this year’s young is born the mother will abandon last year’s young to live on its own.