For our summer weather, dreary is the new sunshine and for that we should be grateful.
Earlier today, a tiny patch of blue sky allowed just enough sun through to light Pyramid Island, creating a micro-landscape of pleasantness. I’m surprised the outdoors people didn’t race there to experience it. Someone could have sold tickets.
May and August were dark and windy bookends to about eight weeks of semi-summer, capped by five days of unfiltered sunshine during the state fair. Someone in that organization sold their soul to the devil about 10 years ago because the fairgrounds has become the only sure place to bump into Old Sol.
Take note, betrothed maidens, and plan your outdoor nuptials accordingly.
We should appreciate the apparent shift in long-term weather patterns, as climate change seems to offer only two alternatives – to much heat or too much rain. We drew the lucky card, one we can market to visitors: “See the Chilkat Valley. It Isn’t on Fire Yet!”
One climate change model says towns in the northern hemisphere should expect the weather from about 100 miles south. So we become Tenakee Springs. Who doesn’t love Tenakee? Nice people. Hot springs. Salmonberries. Whales. Deer hunting. About 20 more inches of rain each year than Haines. No one lives there, but that just makes it nicer for those who do!
With all that rain we’ll have to give up some extras around here like paved roads and picnics, but let’s stay positive.
There are many more reasons to be happy for the new gloom. Fish will love it. With enough rain, historic streams might bounce back. We could get our fall chum run back, our cutthroat trout back, maybe even our king salmon back. In ecological terms, it would be like playing country music backward.
Also, with just a week of sure sunshine each summer, we’ll be able to lure fairgoers from other places to buy land here and build trophy homes. When the monsoons resume, those houses will be on the block at fire-sale prices. In a town full of people who speculate in real estate, how much fun would that be?
Sure we’d have to make some adjustments to town events. Instead of Beerfest, Dalton City each May could host an annual Coffee Carnival, featuring samples of all types of craft java and hot beverages. Instead of a homebrew competition, judges could adjudicate submissions of fruit teas. The Woolies guy from the fair could come and sell sweaters.
Each fall, we could hold Napfest. Haines already boasts some world-class napping habitat, but 33 percent more rain would clinch it. We’d invite back to town all the people we strung out on coffee in May. We’d put them up in cozy lofts under tin roofs so they could drift off to the soft patter of raindrops. We’d offer meditation seminars and trade booths selling the latest in down comforter technology. Sweet dreams, little Yuppie. Yes, of course we accept VISA.
One potential drawback is that as weather in the Lower 48 gets worse, climate refugees and perhaps the entire population of northern California might want to actually move here. Fortunately, those people are mostly hippies so we could expect them to assimilate to local norms like home-schooling, sprinkling brewer’s yeast on popcorn and getting showers at the public library.
As Emma Lazarus said on the Statue of Liberty, “Give me you huddled, sunburned masses, yearning to breathe smoke-free. To them I gift my damp and soggy shore.”
Or something like that.