The first night I was in the arctic, I turned the light out when I was ready for bed and was genuinely surprised that it didn’t get dark in the room.  My mind is still adjusting to it.

My friend hung a fuzzy brown blanket on two nails over my bedroom window so that the room would be dark at night.  A couple of times the youngest daughter has taken the blanket down during the day to wear as a cape while playing, and I forgot to get it back from her room before she went to bed.

If you’re tired enough, you can sleep eight hours in daylight.

I was looking for something in my backpack and ran across my flashlight—and just chuckled to myself.  Why did I bother packing it?

I see the screensaver on my friend’s computer—lovely sunset pictures on the rocky beach—and I think to myself, oh I need to go out for a sunset picture soon.  Then I remember.

Last night, I woke up around 1:30 a.m. and went to the kitchen for a drink of water and noticed the sky outside had a faint pink glow.  The first pink sky I’ve seen since leaving Texas two weeks ago.  I don’t know if it was sunset or sunrise.  Soon we’ll start losing a few minutes of daylight per day.

My friend said to me, “You know the verse in the Bible that says not to let the sun go down on your anger, right?”  People in the arctic have a long time to stew in their anger.