W hy did the chicken cross the moraine? To try and find a date. Unfortunately, her date turned out to be a turkey, but there happened to be plenty of IPA on tap to keep her busy until she found another. Welcome to life on the other side.
It's quite realistic to admit to the possibility of being single until the end of time. It isn't necessarily a truth that we're all running toward with open arms, but it's not a closed cycle yet. A conversation with a glaciation expert may be all a singlet needs to gain a boost of confidence in the lack-of-relationship department.
To the naked eye, glacial activity looks like anything but action. It may put up an appearance of functioning as a stagnant blockage of the water cycle; a stunt of the grunt, if you will, eternally stuck in a rut rather than accomplishing much for its mother to be proud of.
In fact, it may be tempting to call a glacier slothful, reclusive, just a big hunk (unfortunately not the kind of hunks we've been looking for), and taking up good potential driving passage. We don't mind our Icefield. It keeps the aliens out and the hooligans in, and it seems that the foreigners consider it more of a problematic disadvantage while the Juneau goons consider the separation a blessing.
However, with that mainland division can also come extreme emotional suffering and high degrees of turmoil, especially for non-twitterpated types. Until the ice of the mountains reunites with the water of the sea and we are connected with the rest of the world's dating pool, we're stuck with ourselves!
On a positive slant, as the glaciers disappear (which most of them are) they are uncovering brand spankin' new terrain that's ready to be bedded. One could go out on a limb and suggest that all this recently revealed base is probably feeling a bit lonely. No trees, no fungi, no mountain goats, only miles and miles of rock. It has been scraped to smithereens by the spillover purging of the Icefield's excess material for thousands or millions of years, depending on your belief system, then abandoned in the end with the slow death of its cold, blue friend, the only companion it has ever known. We shouldn't make any puns about glacial speed in this touchy situation. Nonetheless, a long time has been taken to chisel this landscape, and it's ready to rock.
Too much of the single life can often make a bachelorette feel like she's stuck in a proverbial glacial desert. It's a downer to feel destined to remain cold and dry forever. However, people are a lot like bedrock. There is massive formation going on and pressure grinding away all the fluff for a good foundation. After all, foundation is everything in a build. We look to the mountains and we see, there is still hope for even the chickens in this Arctic Sahara.
Libby Sterling can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.