Summer is short in Alaska.

Being raised here, I've come to know the signs that strike the hours of the seasons. From the squawking formations of Canadian Geese that bring spring to Alaska - to the vertical blooms of fireweed that tick away the seconds of our summer, I see the hours of it race by. I smell the alder sap triggered by new green leaves. I hear the babble of the creek released from its frozen grasp. I feel the warmth of the sun and relish the too few moments soaking it into my bones. Yet summer comes full of hope.

Twenty first century existence pays little heed to the clockwork of the seasons. In the daily grind of the workweek, we churn away in artificial environments having little to do with what's really going on outside. I guess that's what makes modern life possible, but the disconnect has always bothered me.

I've always been a busy person - having lots of interests and some of my friends have occasionally used the word overachiever in describing me. But summers in Alaska are made for just that. I've found myself in the driveway washing the car at 11:00 in the evening, before realizing the kids were melting down because we hadn't eaten dinner yet. It's pretty easy to do when the sun is still blazing in the sky. In summer we tend to play hard.

I hit 50 this year, or rather it hit me. I've slowed down a little bit and I guess my metabolism has too but I've always been fit and never had to try. For the first time in my life I am consciously making an effort to exercise. Mostly, I go for walks. After 25 years in the workforce, running kids around all week and playing hard on the weekends, a regular walk around the wooded lake behind my place of work - gives me time to think, but is also a little weird.

How is it the new green of the spring leaves has gone so fast? The fireweed is halfway bloomed already! That must mean it really is mid-July, and that means king salmon fishing is really done. There are high bush cranberries on the bushes and the're already turning red. Blueberries will be right around the corner. I can smell the devils club in the air and it hits me... I have to start thinking about the end of summer.

But I'm not ready!

I have so much to do and it has to get done this summer or else it will have to get done in the winter...and some of it just simply can't be done in the winter. We've got to get the boat in shape enough to live aboard and call our home for the next two years. We have to figure out what the heck we're going to do with our mail, our finances and our healthcare, let alone the rest of our material possessions. We've got to liquidate, sell the cars and move by May. I take a deep breath. It will happen.

At the end of my lap around the lake, I pass a native co-worker on the sunny path. He seems to know what I've been thinking when he says" "it's coming to an end. I can smell it in the air."

We nod to one another and accept our fate.