[Kathy in Alaska]

Good morning Troops, families, veterans, Israeli, British, Australian, Polish, and Italian allies (and everybody else, and all the ships at sea). Thank you for taking such good care of the USA.

Today in Anchorage, Alaska:

Sunrise 9:29am
Sunset 4:56pm

Hi 13°F
Lo 2°F

Mostly cloudy and frigid

Actual yesterday in Anchorage:

Hi 11°F
Lo 7°F

State Hi 41°F Adak
State Lo -58°F Northway

[Kathy in Alaska]

Click!

[trussell]

Hey Ma, my heads hanging low, I oops'd!!

That song (The Green Door) is by Jim Lowe, not Hoyt Axton.

I'm sorry, I misunderstood my mom. ***Its all HER fault!!*** LOL

[E.G.C.]

BTTT!!!!!!

[Trikebuilder]

Winter’s Rage

Its cold, that cold that cuts through clothes like a scalpel to the bone,
leaving that familiar burning of its icy touch, right into your soul.
It slips easy into gloves, drawing what heat was in that delicate zone,
making hands ache with its passing caress, taking its steady toll.

The air is painful to inhale, stealing more breath then it seems to give,
leaving one only too aware of Winter, and its dangerous moods to rue.
The wind swirls nigh, driving its ice splinters in, your clothes seem but a sieve,
and you know a small, silent fear, cold can master you, rule you, kill you.

Dry granular snow stings your skin, like icy gravel on the cruel wind,
forcing tears to flow, and freeze on cheeks numb and burning at the same time.
You challenge not this arctic beast that shatters stones and pray it rescinds,
bowing in humble surrender to its unfeeling and terrible power so prime.

Indoors is survival, and a measure of peace before the storm’s rage,
sheltering from Winter’s assault, it’s icy breath and mortal blow.
Take the time to reflect upon the fact that we are motes upon God’s page,
hiding from the power he uses with such ease, and to fools such woe.



-19 degrees (-35 to -45 windchill)