Fixed vs. transitional seasons
The meaning of summer
I recently returned to Anchorage after three weeks of vacation. I’m tan and my ears contain the sea. In short, I feel like I finally experienced summer.
Growing up in New York, summers had a predictable rhythm. May and June were finicky. But once it was July, I knew what the next few months would bring. Sure, there could be thunderstorms that sent you running for cover. But the temperature, outdoors at least, was stable. My skin adjusted to it. I never needed to pack a sweater. Instead, I could leave my apartment wearing any combination of loose-fitting shirts and shorts and call it a day.
Anchorage summers are different. The temperature fluctuates but it rarely gets hot. When the sun is out, it feels like proper summer. But when it’s cloudy or rainy, like it has been for much of the past two years, it’s basically what other places call fall.
I am starting to realize that I dislike Anchorage summer. More precisely, a summer in Anchorage is not what I consider summer. When I stay here the entire time, I don’t get the necessary relief.
I feel most like myself during “fixed” seasons—months when the weather is predictable. I generally consider both summer and winter to be fixed, while spring and fall are so-called “transitional” seasons. The times of constant change.
During a fixed season, I know what to expect. I sink into my rhythms and my clothing. I pack my bags with what I need.
Anchorage winters are fixed. Once there is snow on the ground, the days become routine. I wear cozy layers and drink cozy tea. I ski and attend potlucks and rest.
When I wrote about feeling hesitant to welcome the sun's return last February, what I most resisted was the sun as harbinger of change. With sunshine comes warmth and melting. Spring, though exciting, brings unpredictability.
Although I can appreciate the beauty of fall and the mania of spring, I tend to feel, during those transitional seasons, that I am biding my time. Whether it be sliding into winter or exploding into summer, I’m waiting for the change to be complete.
It’s a fallacy to think of any season as truly “fixed.” I know as well as you that each day has a unique amount of sunlight and that no two moments are the same.
But having just traveled to a place with consistent weather, I can say that some summers are more fixed than others. I know how good it feels, to me, to expect that tomorrow will be like today.
Similar to plants, human bodies adapt to our environments. I’ve grown more tolerant of the cold by virtue of living so far north.
But also like plants, bodies have ideal conditions in which we thrive. Spending nine days next to the sea, in humidity and heat, nourished me. As did spending several days in a vibrant city before that.
Anchorage summers bring beauty and excitement like no other. Wildflowers abound under the midnight sun, and staring at a glacier while cradled in spongy tundra is a peace I’ve not otherwise known.
I suppose it’s nice to appreciate the scant warmth we are blessed to receive in these unpredictable months. As the saying goes, “if you don’t like our weather, just wait a few minutes.” The afternoon of sunshine that follows moody rain feels that much more sweet.
After all, there is no room for complacency in a transitional summer. Each nice day may be the last one you get.
Yet it’s okay to admit that I like complacency. I like days that stretch into nights barely cool enough to bring relief. I like the unbearable weight of humidity that reminds me of every square inch of my skin.
Maybe I simply want to enjoy the weather as is and not have it change into something else the very next minute.
Naming my issue with Anchorage summers helps me identify a workable solution. It’s not fair to expect the constancy I desire in a place that simply won’t give it. The answer, then, is to leave.
I can find my fixed summers elsewhere and return when I’m ready for fall. I am lucky enough to do so, and I did. It was bliss.
-Julia
P.S. I am currently waiting for three (!!) rolls of film to be developed. Very exciting. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy these photos by my friend Sam in Greece. As you can tell, I take my beach time seriously.
P.P.S. I’d like to double my newsletter subscribers by the end of the year. It’s a lofty goal, perhaps foolishly so, and I will certainly need your help in reaching it. Please share this post with anyone who might be interested! If you’re on social media, why not start a war between transitional- and fixed-season enthusiasts? Are you team Spring/Fall or team Summer/Winter? Do you think this binary is wrong or, even worse (but perhaps better for the ~discourse), that it promotes the kind of reductive and divisive thinking of modern fascism??!1 Go there, I beg you. Why not.2 💛
To troll myself, there might be some truth here. After all, everything is a spectrum, and binaries are false… that said, I’m still team fixed season. Cancel me!
It’s also wild to write an entire post about weather without mentioning climate change… dang. Here it is, folks, in an obligatory footnote. Maybe this summer was weird for everyone (wildfires in uncommon places, hurricanes in uncommon places, droughts, flooding…)? Yeah, okay. RIP predictability for us all.