We’re heading into winter in Alaska. We’re not actually quite there yet. Just far enough toward winter that it’s cold and dreary outside. It’s dark. The plants in our yard have long since withered and died, and are now in standing water from all the rain we’re getting. The snows haven’t come yet. It’s just cold, and wet, and dark.
When I first moved to Alaska I think I may have been clinically depressed that first fall and winter. Everything. Everywhere I looked. Was grey. Just different shades of grey. The sky. The water. Even the mountains and trees in the distance. Everything. Grey.
Why do people choose to live here? This was a frequent puzzle of mine. Why in the world? But I’ve long since moved past that. I get it now. And I smile when newcomers ask this. Why do we live here? Lots of reasons. You’ll see.
But this year, I’ve been enjoying a little respite from the season every time I come home. Home, which is normally pretty cozy this time of the year, has become even more so for me this year. All because of the crickets.
One of our boys has a terrarium in his bedroom which houses his two geckos. Supposedly, one gecko is a male and one is a female. I don’t know how you can tell with geckos. They both look the same to me. But our boy swears he can tell which is which, and that the gender differences are very distinctive.
The deal was that as long as he was responsible for caring for the geckos, he could get them. We didn’t want to have to be feeding them, cleaning out the terrarium, or making sure they had clean water. Nor did we want to be surprised by them running out across the kitchen floor, or climbing up the bathroom walls. They were to stay in the boys’ bedroom.
What he’d really wanted was bigger lizards, bearded dragons I think it was. But those were more expensive. So we went to the pet store with his sights set on bearded dragons. And came home with geckos.
And crickets.
Geckos eat crickets. Not seeds like the birds eat. Or flakes of dried mash like the goldfish eat. Geckos eat live, chirping crickets.
So, every week the boys go down to the pet store and purchase another week’s supply of crickets. For a few days, those crickets live a brief, probably terrifying, existence in our home.
And for a few days each week our house is alive with the chorus of crickets emanating from the boys’ bedroom. With each passing day the chorus gets a little quieter, and a little quieter still, until it ceases altogether. Then it’s time to go back to the pet store for another round of crickets.
Every once in a while one or two of them will escape from the gecko condo and go on safari in our house. We’ll be surprised to find one hanging out on the counter in the bathroom, or uncover one resting under someone’s pillow. Currently, we have one hiding out behind the refrigerator. Each time the kitchen light gets turned off it starts chirping.
And it has only recently occurred to me that the weather outside isn’t bothering me nearly as much as it normally does this time of year. Sure it’s raining, and blowing, and dark. But inside the house it’s pleasant. Almost feels like summer.
Having grown up in the farm country of eastern Washington, the sound of crickets is reminiscent of childhood. It’s a sound I haven’t heard in years. But suddenly, here in Alaska heading into winter, I am recalling childhood summer evenings spent sitting out on the front porch watching the world go by. Running barefoot through the grass, playing with friends in the neighborhood park.
Last night, as we watched a movie in the living room with the kids, I was privately enjoying the peaceful melodies coming from the boys’ room, and from behind the refrigerator. I got to thinking about the crickets. Though I do enjoy their chirping, the crickets’ existence in our home isn’t particularly wonderful for them. From the minute they arrive here they’re on death row.
And yet, even knowing that, to me their presence in our home is still pleasant. Enjoyable even. I don’t even mind when they escape and start chirping from other parts of the house.
It’s almost winter here in Alaska. It’s cold, and dark, and rainy. I can’t walk out to my car in the driveway without getting wet. And though it will be snowing soon, right now it’s just dark and dreary outside. But inside? Once the lights are turned out I am reliving the peacefulness of warm summer evenings. I can almost smell the newly cut grass.
penniesonmypath 