Polar night ended a couple of weeks ago. I was a bit surprised—has it already come to an end? I even felt a slight sense of longing. Just when I thought I had time to adjust, nature shifts again. The changes in the surrounding environment and observing them keep the mind fresh. I can’t think of a better way to start the day than exploring what nature has to offer once the light emerges. Will the sun manage to rise above the forest edge, or does it still slumber cold on the horizon? Has the night’s sharp frost added more crystalline art to the riverside trees? How strong is the river’s ice now, and how far can I venture out onto it?

Winter has hit hard with severe frosts. The coldest days have been near minus forty degrees. The cabin is mainly heated with wood, which is being consumed quickly. I called my trusted wood supplier to arrange a new load. They said it’ll need to be dug out from under the snow before delivery and might be quite cold and snowy when stored. It doesn’t matter—I still need it. I’ll bring the wood inside early to warm it by the fireplace.

Living at the mercy of snow and frost isn’t always easy. Sometimes the cold creeps inside. On the coldest mornings, my uninsulated front door collects beautiful frost on the inside windows and the metal handle. The bedroom window grew frost flowers on the inside for a couple of days before I managed to clear them with the determined heating of the fireplace. I stay warm at night under two blankets and in a merino wool base layer.

Is all of this unpleasant? Not at all. I enjoy starting my mornings still chilled, wrapped in three wool cardigans, as I light the fire in the stove. As I slip outside in slippers and wool clothes in the early morning twilight, the starry sky stretches vast and clear over the dark spruces. The frost crunches beneath the rubber soles of my slippers, and the empty wicker basket creaks in my arms. The dwindling woodpile against the shed wall reflects its frost crystals in the light of my headlamp, which will soon melt when brought inside to the fireplace.

The atmosphere is peaceful, grounded, natural. Just right for me.

When your car breaks down in the cold on a remote village road at night, it's not ideal or pleasant. Not every moment is a celebration, life isn’t easy or always filled with cozy atmospheres. But somehow, things still work out. There are helpful people around, calling their acquaintances to get me the tools and assistance I need on a dark winter evening when the car has stalled in an empty village parking lot. It sometimes feels strange, almost new. People help out of the goodness of their hearts, not expecting something in return or for personal gain. I try to do the same—offering my help according to my skills and abilities. By working together, life at the mercy of nature's forces becomes a bit lighter. Or at least, the problems are easier to bear when you can share them.

I try to keep up my writing pace. I enjoy organizing my thoughts and sharing the little events of life here. I hate rushing, schedules, and a full calendar. I avoid them whenever possible, but I’m also aware of time’s limits and life’s realities, and I dislike those too. Creativity—writing, photography, making music—requires time, lots of empty space, silence, boring moments, long and dark evenings. Ideas, at least for me, are born far from pressure and deadlines. There’s no room for scheduling, but life still has to keep turning. A warm cabin needs wood, a car needs parts and maintenance, outdoor activities and creative outlets require equipment, and the equipment needs upkeep. All of that can be bought with money, which means I have to give my time and skills in return. That creates schedules, which take a chunk out of creativity—the thing I enjoy most in life, next to nature.

I try to face life and its unavoidable realities in the same way I approach a cold winter morning—slowly, lazily, calmly. With patience, grace, and understanding.

If you’re tired of waiting for my posts here, I suggest joining me on Instagram. There, you can follow my life in the north several times a week—frost-covered riverbank landscapes, adventures to the fells and various corners of Lapland, the beautiful and tough moments of everyday life, and the friends and loved ones in it. I’d love it if you’d come along on that journey 🤗

Wishing you a wonderful start to the week! ☀️

♥: Sanna