The night before last, I took Papu for a walk in the bright yet warm winter evening. The stars twinkled against the deep blue sky as we strolled quietly along the village path. Without a headlamp, it felt like midday; the nearly full moon shone brightly from behind the trees.

On the horizon, a small green arc glowed. I watched the lovely faint lines and thought, "Oh, there are northern lights tonight too, but they don’t look very impressive." I considered not even fetching my camera. However, I didn’t feel like going inside on the terrace, so I grabbed my camera and tripod and made my way down to the riverbank ice.

That’s when things began to happen.

In an instant, the entire sky erupted in green. The bright, swirling patterns danced above, sometimes moving so quickly that it was hard for the camera to capture their movements. For the first time in a while, I noticed red hues lingering at the edges, a color you don’t always see in the northern lights.The night before last, I took Papu for a walk in the bright yet warm winter evening. The stars twinkled against the deep blue sky as we strolled quietly along the village path. Without a headlamp, it felt like midday; the nearly full moon shone brightly from behind the trees.

On the horizon, a small green arc glowed. I watched the lovely faint lines and thought, "Oh, there are northern lights tonight too, but they don’t look very impressive." I considered not even fetching my camera. However, I didn’t feel like going inside on the terrace, so I grabbed my camera and tripod and made my way down to the riverbank ice.

That’s when things began to happen.

In an instant, the entire sky erupted in green. The bright, swirling patterns danced above, sometimes moving so quickly that it was hard for the camera to capture their movements. For the first time in a while, I noticed red hues lingering at the edges, a color you don’t always see in the northern lights.

The lights that usually dance across the northern sky were everywhere. A green arc began above my cabin, and as it moved toward the horizon, it only brightened and intensified, splitting in two beside the moon in the mid-sky and continuing its journey even more powerfully across the starry heavens.

There was water on the ice of the river, seeping into my shoes. The cold slush water felt frigid between my toes, and soon enough, I could no longer feel my feet. Several times, I considered heading back inside, but the northern lights grew brighter by the moment, and I simply couldn’t resist. I turned my head and camera in every direction, marveling at all the beauty surrounding me.

There’s an unwritten rule here. When the northern lights put on their best show, we want to share the experience and tell others about it. As my camera snapped hundreds and hundreds of photos on its own (I’ll soon make a northern lights video from them!), I sent a message to a few villagers and friends, letting them know it was time to head outside and look at the sky. We have our own northern lights watch group so we can share in the joy and wonder of this natural spectacle together. Almost everyone responded that they were already out watching the same lights.

I have a good feeling about this year. I’m not usually one for New Year’s celebrations. The thought of starting the year with a blank slate, all possibilities open, and a new beginning ahead is appealing. But that’s possible every day, not just at the turn of the year.

However, this year began under special circumstances. I found a kindred spirit among the wonderful people I’ve met here in the North. A nature lover, incredibly creative and talented, someone who loves everything and everyone, and who shares with me a deep connection to the North, to Lapland, the fells, the endless snowy valleys, winter, and the lights of the sky. This person has brought a lot of laughter, joy, creativity, a sense of life, adventure, and has pushed aside deep sorrow, longing, and memories of the past.

Welcome to the story, E 💜