When most folks talk of autumn in Alaska, they prattle on about the aroma of wood smoke, vibrant colors, and other aesthetics. Me, well, I guess God gave me a stronger nesting drive than others. When the nip is in the air and the dew is thick, I suddenly wake up one chilly morning agitated and go into my annual frenzy that terrifies my family and friends. This is not a predictable date; Mother Nature controls the time.

My nesting need overwhelms me and insists that my family immediately stop everything else and prepare for winter. I order firewood, roll up hoses, check weatherstripping, insulate pipes, have the furnace tuned up, send cars to the shop for winterizing, inventory winter clothing and drag out comforters for the beds. The list is long and laborious, and my nesting urge dictates that it must be completed within seven days or we will surely starve and freeze when the snow comes.

I become the Captain Bly of the Alaska, standing on the deck barking commands and checking off my list. My family scurries to and fro, taping, strapping, storing, stacking and anything else I deem necessary for winter survival. Tempers fray and teeth grind. When I feel we are safe and secure, everyone sighs with relief and we build a fire in the fireplace and sit down to our first winter meal of hot spicy stew and homemade bread.

Although my autumn behavior drives my family crazy, you know, we have never frozen or starved to death.