We've reached that time of year when the Arctic nights are very lovely and just a bit strange. I went out walking just now, after 11 p.m. It was still broad daylight, with
virgas drifting to the west and the sky to the north slowly purpling into something like sunset. The air was cool and damp and rich with the smell of the trees -- the sweetness of rising sap and the faintest hint of perfume from the catkins on the willows and alders. Robins were singing, as they do; I'm not sure when the Arctic birdlife sleeps in the summer, if it does, because the birds sing through the day and all through the bright nights. The days are warm and the nights are cool, and I saw the first hint of green on my rosebush today. I love this time of year.