My soul wraps itself in a sweet mist. I become as strong as a tree in Lapland.

I received a card from an important person last week. In the upper corner was a beautiful excerpt of a poem. Over the weekend, I was with friends at Korvatunturi, from where the above picture was taken. The poem came to mind as I stood on the sharply-edged rock of the mountain summit, in sleet and thick fog. Below, just beyond the steep edge, there was only white mist, where palm-sized wet snowflakes fell into the emptiness. At the edge of the cliff stood a solitary, stunted pine tree, swaying in the wind. Its flexible branches moved gently in the fell breeze, as if dancing. I think it didn’t care much about the sleet storm in October. It turned its next branch with the wind and continued dancing along with it. Each sleet storm makes it stronger and more flexible, and it persists in living at the mountain summit season after season.

When I returned home, winter had arrived. The first proper frosty mornings had covered the trees and ground with a sugary blanket of snow. The landscape by the river changes daily. On a calm, clear frosty morning, it resembles a watercolor painting, with the still water reflecting the faint light from the sky. On a snowy day, when the clouds keep the air gray and dark even in the middle of the day, the landscape is dominated by shades of black and white. In the evening, just before darkness falls, the outlines of the clouds reflecting light draw precise brushstrokes toward the north in the sky.

The river began to gather its ice cover yesterday and has been tinkling with its ice shavings and floodwaters flowing south for about a day now. I sat by its bank for a long time in the light of the full moon, listening to its current. It’s calming. The moonlight illuminated the icy floes colliding against the black flowing water. My breath steamed in the moonlight, and still unaccustomed to the cold, I shivered. Winter has arrived.

Papu and I are enjoying the arrival of winter and the snow. It brings additional work with heating the cabin, shoveling snow, and keeping the car functional, but it also brings a lot of good. The air smells fresh, and it’s easy to breathe. The diminishing light creates wonderful phenomena in the sky, reminding us of the approaching polar night. The starry sky is brighter than before, as daylight does not interfere. The first northern lights have also been seen—I, however, apparently slept through what was said to be the finest northern lights display of the season. That’s how it goes sometimes.

Winter joys.

Such are the winter updates from amidst the snowstorm. The first ski trails in the fells have been opened, and someone has even gone freeriding at Pallas over the weekend. The upcoming weekend is completely free of plans; perhaps I’ll dig my skis out of storage and head out to test how the snow feels beneath them. It’s been “only” four months since my last skiing trip...

♥ Sanna