Move, day, behind the colonies, let twilight reign.

Cut the strands of tomorrow’s visibility from the sun’s beam,

and bring winter in place of spring.

—Martti Salo

I came across a beautiful fragment of a song in a sweet little book called Lapinlasten lauluja (Songs of Lapland's Children). The lyrics perfectly capture this time of year—the twilight, when the day retreats ever further as the night lengthens, and tomorrow appears to brighten in a sky that grows darker with each passing day. I fell in love with it instantly.

In my last post, I promised to show you winter, as I’ve been writing about the happenings of "yesterday" for a while now. Here is the arrival of winter, with views from our home by the riverbank and the nearby forest.

Winter arrived, as usual, by mid-October. Since then, it has been here one day, gone the next, as warm air made its way up north, melting the still-light layer of snow. It left behind small traces of winter hidden in the forest.

The swans lingered on the river until early November. The villagers were worried about them, as each day the ice claimed more of the open water. "Even swans freeze by their feet," goes a line in another song. Luckily, that didn’t happen. The swans, along with their grown cygnets, flew south with their beautiful calls, leaving behind a quiet winter landscape.

The river carried ice crystals in its current for about a week before freezing completely overnight, and since then, it has stubbornly remained covered in ice, even through the warmer days. The drifting ice floes make an eerily beautiful, rustling and clattering sound as they slowly glide southward before freezing in place, cold and still.

In November, we’ve had numerous stunning, frost-kissed winter mornings. The sun rises around nine, but for a few hours, it only shows a faint glow above the tops of the evergreen trees and as a bright shimmer on the snow. From above, it casts a soft, gentle light, appearing warm over the frozen forest below.

E and I have made it a habit to take a long walk with the dogs every morning after breakfast in the nearby forest. For now, it’s still possible with only about ten centimeters of snow on the ground. Soon, though, these forest walks will turn into more of a workout, with all the trudging through deeper snow.

The winter forest is stunning in the mornings. After a cold night, frost covers the branches, moss, and intricately woven spider webs. The village road is so slick and icy that you could probably skate on it. Hmm. Maybe we should try that!

A little winter greeting from here in the midst of frost and fading light. We’re quickly approaching the polar night, and you can tell by the colors on the horizon, the darkness of the "evening" by four o'clock, and the soft, blue tones of the landscape. The polar night is a wonderful time, I can truly say. And so is winter. Ah, we’re living through the best time of the year.

I hope you are too.

 ♥ Sanna