One of my faithful readers told me that she tells tourists who complain about our weather that no one comes to Alaska for the weather. When I first arrived in Barrow, it was the beginning of October and there was already snow on the ground. I remember thinking how much fun it was going to be because I loved snow. Six weeks later, everything was frozen, it was totally dark and I could write a novel on the frost that had built up on the inside of my kitchen window. The moral of this story is that even if you think you’ve come to Alaska for the weather, a six week stay here will show you just how flawed that reasoning is. There is simply something wrong with living in a place where you wait for the one day of sunshine per quarter and then run out the door to jam in every possible outside activity before the snow/ice/fog/ice fog/rain/wind/hail or earthquake returns. Which brings me to the conclusion that if loving Alaska is wrong, I don’t want to be right.