It is official. I live in Alaska. At least that is what is says on my shiny new Alaskan drivers license.
It has been a long week here in Anchorage. I have learned to drive a bus, I have listened to the song of the orange-crowned warbler (among many others) and basked in the 19 hours of sunshine we have here right now. I timed my return perfectly to catch the daffodils and tulips blooming all over the city, the choke cherries fragrant and lush with clusters of little white flowers and the return of many feathered migrants from the lower 48. Spring has arrived in spades. Last year at this time I was wading through 2 feet of snow dumped on Anchorage. I am glad winter has been a little more graceful this year in its surrender to spring.