Home by the shore
I have now been at home for the second week. Here by the riverbank, I marvel at the slow arrival of autumn, with nearly daily rain that prevents me from accessing the blueberry forest. Don’t pick wet blueberries; I’ve tried it. On the other hand, the rain is more than welcome. The summer has been incredibly dry, and you can see it everywhere in nature. I mentioned earlier during my summer travels how the rivers and streams marked on the map had shrunk in places to nothing, to dry beds. The water in my own river is so low that I haven’t been able to swim here. Usually, at this time, resin-scented salmon boats glide down the river, but now they can’t get everywhere due to the low water. So let it rain, then.
Recovering from travel life was initially difficult. Calming down didn’t happen just like that when I opened the front door. After wandering all summer, being still is challenging. I spent a few days running around the cabin, moving things here and there, only to put them back in place again. Even at other times, focusing on one thing at a time is difficult; now it was exceptionally challenging.
I might start washing the dishes, notice through the window how the swallows are flying over the surface of the river, and want to capture it with the camera. I walk down to the shore with the camera, realize I need a different lens. I head to get it and remember that I haven’t fed Papu. I open the fridge to get dog food and notice that the blueberries I put in there yesterday have leaked juice, so I have to clean that up. I start cleaning, but my phone rings—work-related matters. I open my computer; the fridge door is still open, Papu is hungry, and the camera is left alone by the shore, capturing the swallows.
I allowed myself to flit around for a moment here and there like the swallows over the water’s surface, to adapt to the new situation, and after a few days, my movements settled down. It also helps that the surrounding nature offers moments and opportunities for calming down. In the evenings, when the rain clouds briefly clear, the sun gilds the entire horizon with its reddish glow and reflects all its beauty from the calm surface of the water.
In such moments, all you can do is relax. Everything else fades away when you start watching these shades of nature’s painting. Occasionally, I turn my head upside down and look at the image, interrupted by the low strip of forest on the horizon, upside down. Just for fun. I wonder how I know which of these worlds is right side up when both look almost the same.
In Sámi mythology, there is a belief in the Saivo people who live beyond the Saivo lakes. At the bottom of certain lakes, there is a small hole through which one can swim to a world that is similar to the one we live in, but a mirrored version. There lives the sacred Saivo people, a benevolent spirit folk who may sometimes help those residing on this side of the lake.
I am not an expert on Sámi mythology. My previous description of the Saivo people is my own, memory-based interpretation drawn from a few books I’ve read, but such old stories and beliefs about nature are fascinating. I enjoy reading books and writings related to these and other Finnish natural mythologies. There is much to learn without needing to endorse everything. I thought I would soon share some good books related to the north, nature, Lapland, and Finnish mythologies, so stay tuned ☺️
One evening, I couldn’t sleep. Perhaps my wandering soul was still roaming along the roads and couldn’t settle down. I rode my bike in the twilight to my favorite spot by the river. I introduced it here on the blog last summer. The evening was cool, perhaps the first one that clearly hinted at the first signs of autumn. The river flowed quietly and peacefully, reflecting the last colorful brushstrokes of the sun on the horizon.
I remember thinking how peaceful it felt. Perhaps that was the moment when my wandering soul returned from its journey and settled into this moment alongside my physical self, by the gently flowing river.
I hope you’ve had a wonderful summer, and that autumn brings with it new, beautiful breezes. I’ll continue to enjoy my time by the river and the peaceful life, which still includes occasional darting here and there. That’s how it is.
Alongside photography and writing for the blog, I also plan to continue making YouTube videos. I experience bursts of crazy inspiration while working on them. I really enjoy filming and creating videos. If you want to give my bursts a little nudge and support my work with them, please visit my YouTube channel and hit the little red button that says "Subscribe." It tells both me and YouTube's surprisingly smart algorithm that making videos is worthwhile, but it doesn’t require anything from you or obligate you in any way. Thank you so much! 🤗💛
♥ Hugs, Sanna