Yesterday it was windy, uncharacteristically windy for South Pole. I woke up to the jamesway ceiling billowing and hiccupping in a way that made the bed seem warmer, darker, impossible to leave. Even with the wooden windowshade drawn shut, I knew what it would be like outside. Grey and misty, whipcracks of snow bristling up like the hair on a spooked dog’s back, a goggles-not-sunglasses kind of day when you want every single part of your skin covered.

In the afternoon, the snow crystals were floating overhead in sheets, the sun ringed with two sundogs, rainbow arcs circling the sun, a false sunrise glowing on the horizon directly below the sun. My camera didn’t have a wide enough angle to catch it, a sign that maybe I should be just looking and appreciating the view instead of trying to capture the image. And today the clouds are being pulled back slowly and with resistance, revealing a strip of insanely blue sky.


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