Made of tougher stuff than its summer cousin, this winter fog hardly reacted to the morning’s warming sunlight. It won’t burn off. Even when the sun reaches full strength at noon, it will only manage to move the fog on, like police encouraging a homeless person to shift from a restaurant’s back door. The grey blanket will return when the sun dips behind the Douglas Island ridge. We can expect more canceled flights at the Juneau Airport; no mail from outside until the winds return. That doesn’t matter to Aki nor I as we walk along the bright side of a line of light and shade that creeps across Gasteneau Meadow. 

On the dark side, grey frost flowers cover every inch of the pines. In minutes, when reached by light, the needles will transform into yellow green lances shimmering in dying frost. A few more minutes of sun will deaden the needles to a more sustainable green. Even as Aki urges me to move on, I long to spend the day in this cusp of light and dark, watching the sparkle of dying frost on electric green needles. Aki, does the sun backlighting these frosty pines mimic the glow of heaven? Is this like the bright light that bring joy to the near-death experience?