Each spring, Alaska experiences a phenomenon known as “Melt-out,” when all the collected snow finally begins to melt, sending sheets of water downhill and generally making a mucky, muddy mess out of everything. Usually this occurs near the end of April or even early May. This year, however, is different. The recent eruptions of Mt. Redoubt spread volcanic ash all over the south-central part of the state. That ash, now laying on top of much of the snow in the area, is acting like a solar blanket, transferring the heat of the sun into the normally reflective snow.

We may still have some snowfall left this year, but the damage has been done. We’re starting to see patches of ground where there has only been snow since October. It’s going to be really messy for a month, but then we get to enjoy the Alaskan summer!

The snow is doing just fine where the ash didn’t stick to it, making a big patchwork of white splotches and sunken gray sections all over the place.

It even works on a smaller scale, melting around small bits of white snow, leaving little towers.

Or leaving fragile glass-like footprints, suspended above the melting snow.

Monday night, we had high winds that drifted in our driveway, trapping me here at home for most of the day Tuesday.

I managed to make into town Wednesday morning, though it was already blowing snow when I left. While there, I received a call from the boss, who had made it to Anchorage and was boarding a flight to Homer. I went to the airport to pick her up, and watched as the pilot circled a few times in the high wind and heavy snow, contemplated the odds of crashing while landing, decided they were not in his/her favor, and then headed back to Anchorage.

By the time I returned home, I could barely see the road, and spent the last 5 miles of the drive crawling along between lulls in the wind, when the whiteout would relent for a few seconds. Skippy had gone home ahead of me, and was bearing the brunt of the storm while trying to feed the dogs and rescue the lids to their houses that the wind had blown off (yes, it was that strong!). She faced down the storm and beat it, even after being knocked flat several times by gusts of wind and flying dog house lids.

I arrived in time to help assemble kennels and move all the ice-encrusted old dogs inside. I also took some video of the storm, for your edutainment.

Here’s what it was like outside, though the wind had died down a bit by this point. As I pan to the dog yard, you might notice the blue poop sled flying in the breeze:

I moved inside, fearing for my camera’s well-being:

And this one is looking out the east window of the cabin. Don’t you just want to run outside and play?

This morning broke calm and clear. As is typical after a snow storm, we found that most of our paths had been drifted over, making walking anywhere a chore until we get them packed down again. Also, this is our driveway.

The drift was over 5′ high in places, leaving a narrow path to walk through. I sent the boss’s dog Bean down through it so I could at least get some perspective shots.

Also, check out the new rims Mother Nature gave Skippy’s truck:

It took most of the morning to dig out the dog houses and pull out whatever snow had blown into them. While we were out working, the plow arrived and started digging us out. The first couple of snows we had, back in October and November, the plow company sent a standard 4×4 pickup with a blade attached to the front. Now, in the depths of winter and snow banks on either side of the road that are 7′+ high, they bring something more substantial.

Around 10:30am, as I was preparing to go pick up the boss from the airport, a friend called and told me Redoubt had erupted again, and this time the ash was headed our way. Sure enough, the volcano had erupted and sent an ash cloud 65,000′ into the air. Had it been clear to the north of us, we probably would have been able to see it, but of course it was overcast at that point.

The boss’s flight was once again canceled, and we’re beginning to think she’ll have to build a house in Anchorage because she’s never going to get back here. We prepared for the coming rain of volcanic debris: gathering fresh water for the dogs and ourselves if the power went out again, moving the old dogs back inside, and making sure doors and windows were shut tight.

We finished up as the first flakes of ash began to fall, and celebrated by taking a 3 hour nap. When we woke up, the blinding whiteness that had surrounded us for the past 5 months was turned into a dirty gray, like those piles of plowed snow in mall parking lots.

We fed the dogs with filter masks on, since the wind was blowing again, and I don’t fancy having volcanic glass in my lungs. I also wore my glasses, since microscopic ash on contact lenses can scratch the cornea, and I don’t want that either. Of course, breathing into the mask meant my glasses kept fogging up, so I eventually just took them off and worked in my nearsighted blur.

Here’s a special message, written in volcanic ash:

Now the volcano is sending out seismic pulses every couple of minutes, and I wonder if it’s going to blow again.

So, at least it isn’t boring around here.

This morning, it doesn’t look much different than before the storm. Everything is still white and snow covered. Pretty much every hole (like the dog poop pit) is now filled in, and there are banks of snow around anything as big as, or bigger than, the dog houses. We didn’t lose power, which happened the last time I think we had a blizzard, and our heater exhaust didn’t get blocked, so it was pretty painless.

Here is the whole window:

Let’s move in closer!

With my 105mm macro lens, I can get mere inches away from a subject. Let’s take an even closer look.

The out of focus dots on the left of this next image are falling snow flakes, as seen through the window.

I feel like my addiction to photography has made me even more aware of the beauty that surrounds us all. There are moments in each day where I see something and think “that is amazing.” And I don’t necessarily mean the landscape I’m surrounded by here in Alaska, though that is pretty much consistently breath-taking. It can be anything: the distribution of a group of ravens in a dead tree, a building framed by blue sky, the variety of colors, shapes, and sizes of bikes in a full bike rack…anything! Being able to capture what I see in my eyes and mind with a camera is the frustrating challenging part, but the beauty is always there.

After I finished in the yard, I figured I might as well shoot some of the ice that’s formed on the plants, since I had my telephoto/macro lens on already.

This evening…wait, 3:30 isn’t the evening. This afternoon, when taking Ashlee and Macgee out for their potty break, the sun was setting behind the same layer of thin clouds.