The polar night has ended across all of Lapland. The light is returning.

I went to the fells of Pallas to greet the sun and bid farewell to the polar night, just like I did last year. I suppose that can be called a tradition now. The sun has appeared above the horizon for the first time in the past week. I first saw it while driving with a friend a few days ago. Both of us stared at the golden line of the horizon, and when the bright orb that we could clearly recognize as the sun finally emerged above it, we squealed with delight and celebrated with a few dance moves that fit inside the car.

There’s definitely a reason to celebrate in the sunlight.

Yesterday, I drove to Pallas for the first time in a while with Papu. The trip was quick and spontaneous—the best kind. The wind was so strong on the fell that it slammed the car doors. The radio reported storm wind warnings in the south and over the sea. Against the white slope of the fell, someone brave was setting up a kite, ready to sail off with their snowboard. I had to hold onto my hat as I climbed the path toward a sunny spot. My fingers froze immediately when I took them out of my mittens, and I recalled the warnings from more experienced hiking companions about not letting your limbs get too cold, as they may never fully recover.

But I simply had to witness and share these stunning landscapes and conditions.

Papu enjoyed getting out of our familiar surroundings after such a long time. We’ve both been a bit under the weather lately. The snow supported us without skis—at least for Papu. In sheltered spots, I sank down to my hips in the soft snow and had to haul myself up while Papu happily scampered ahead, his fur fluttering in the wind.

In the fells, we both feel at home. The rest of the world fades away, worries are whisked off by the wind into the horizon and forgotten. Life takes on a different perspective.

All that remains is the moment that is now.

The sun peeked out shyly, barely above the horizon, behind the silhouette of the southern fells. Its light won’t warm us for a long time; for now, it’s just a reflection of summer somewhere far away. Perhaps by the end of May, its warmth will finally conquer the dominion of the white snow and melt it within a day or two. But that journey is still ahead, and that’s just fine.

I tried to take a cute picture of Papu and me while we were shivering in a small dip, sheltered from the snowstorm, trying to escape the swirling wind. However, the camera wouldn’t focus on us; it was off doing its own thing no matter how hard I tried. It happens sometimes. That’s just how life is.

At the parking lot, a tourist group had just returned with their guides and snowshoes from the fells, their cheeks flushed and hair frosted. I recognized their clothing as similar to what is worn by trekkers in polar regions. It’s possible that the winds of Pallas can be compared to conditions on polar glaciers; both are in the Arctic zone.

As I drove down the fell road, the sky turned a brilliant shade of red at the tree line. This kind of bright golden red isn’t seen during the kaamos; it’s created only by the light of the setting sun. The kind that has traveled from the other side of the horizon. A clear sign of a new era.

The light is finally returning, and it has been eagerly awaited. Long, sunny spring days on the snow lie ahead. After that, a new summer, the midnight sun, and a realm of light.

I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this constant change. Nature is always transforming, at least eight times a year. Even though I always release one season with a hint of sadness and move on to the next with a bit of internal resistance, change is still what feels like life. It’s about moving forward. You can either live with change, enjoy it, and flow along with it, or you can hopelessly fight against it.

I’ve chosen the former.

Wishing you a wonderful, light-filled weekend. Thank you for being here with me 💛

♥ Sanna