Freeze Up at an Alaska Cabin

Freeze up is a brief and dramatic transition.

The first snow always makes me feel like we have suddenly switched from a color movie with sound to a silent black and white one.  The only colors remaining in view are the yellow needles of the tamarack (larch) trees and a few glistening red cranberries dangling from denuded branches.  The only sounds are of wind,  snow sloughing off our steep roofs and lake water freezing. 

First snow in the front yard

The first sunny day after any snowfall is gorgeous, with the diamond-like glints of snow crystals, reflected light, and the complicated geometry of sun and shadow formed by trees and the lumpy terrain of snow coated ground cover.

October 25 featured a full day and night of wet, soggy snow, in mid-30s F temperatures, coating the yard and topping the stumps with 6 inches.  Early the next morning, Bryan heard branches cracking and snapping under the weight.  

 

October at a Remote Alaska Homestead

 October is the start of freeze up.  This year, during the first half of October, snow started to cling to the apex of Mt. Susitna (about 4400 feet).  On the 16th, it appeared at the top of Little Su, too (about 3300 feet).  Most of the deciduous trees and bushes dropped their leaves (except for the yellow needles of tamaracks and the fat green maple-like leaves of the large domesticated currant bushes).  We raked up tarps full of birch leaves to mulch the raised bed gardens as well as two trellises of domesticated raspberry bushes.  We also re-wrapped the lowest 1-2 feet of young berry plants to protect them from under-snow girdling by hungry voles and hares.   Having lost several prior apple and cherry trees to such predation, I hope we can finally outsmart those little rodents.  

 During the first half of the unusually warm month, we were still able to gather fresh salads of sorrel, mustard, and nasturtium greens every day.  Tomatoes continued to grow in the greenhouse, even though I stopped watering in September.  A wonderful treat was our first small harvest of horseradish.  We divided the plants, cut the skinny horizontal roots for the kitchen and replanted the stronger, thicker tap roots for next year's growth. The ones I harvested for our use were so thin that I just used my thumb nail to scrape off the hairs and thin skin, then pulverized the roots with mayonnaise and yogurt for a tangy sauce.  It was so delicious that it lasted a mere 2 weeks!  I look forward to much more sauce in years to come, since the plant flourishes in our Alaska climate, and since our jalapenos seem to taste milder than those we grew in Texas.