WE BOUGHT A HOUSE – The dream house in the north

Phew, it’s finally true. For over two years, we’ve been searching for the dream house—a log cabin under the northern sky, surrounded by nature. We’ve toured villages, made phone calls to offices, officials, and landowners. We’ve knocked on strangers’ doors, had coffee in cabins, and asked neighbors about potential sellers.

Finding our own house in northern Finland felt like an almost impossible task.

But here it is now.

I’ve written here before about how difficult the house search has been. There are very few houses on the market in the north, and even fewer old ones. Even though you see them abandoned along the roadside, they always belong to someone. Often, it’s a beloved family summer home that they’re not ready to part with. Stories like "The nephew comes once a year for a week-long fishing trip, so we don’t want to let it go" have become all too familiar.

The oldest log houses suffered greatly during the war when nearly all of northern Finland was burned to the ground. Every village, barn, and house was destroyed without mercy. The ones that survived are rare, and behind them are stories of scheming and Finnish ingenuity. Someone hid enemy boats so they couldn’t reach the village on the other side of the lake to burn it down. Or an officer "forgot" to tell his troops about an old village because a beautiful Finnish maiden lived there. We were looking for a house and a village with history and a story.

And we found it.

Our house is located, somewhat surprisingly, in northern Kuusamo. That’s nearly 400 km from where we currently live. We’re moving from the western border to right near the eastern one, to a place where we don’t know anyone and know little about.

Except for the fact that the nature there is incredibly beautiful. It combines the northern arctic landscape, rolling fells, candle-like spruces, nearby national parks, and eastern wilderness. Peaceful small villages, heavy snow winters, the midnight sun, and freezing cold winters.

But also, something very important to me: open fields, flower meadows, our own vegetable garden, and berry bushes. We have our own outbuildings, with space to build and create. In the old workshop, we’ll be renovating the van’s interior next summer, and in the other section, I’ll be creating a creative space, a music studio with views directly across a lake toward a row of fells.

The village is small, with 25 people living there, including us. There are about ten houses, all gathered charmingly near the top of the fell. Our house is the highest—and the oldest—in the village. Nearly all the villagers are related, and each one has a story to tell about our house. Someone was born there, another’s great-grandmother lived there in the 1800s, and someone else says there was a shotgun incident there. The old logs are full of stories, whispering them to anyone who stops to listen—hopefully, to us as well.

The 175-year-old log house leans this way and that, with hardly a straight line in sight. Locals say that a house that has stood this long in one place has settled exactly where it wants to be and won’t be moving anymore. For us, the house is perfect just as it is. It has seen wars and famines, and it was even a place to celebrate Finland’s independence. Even then, it was already nearly ancient. It’s an honor to become part of the house’s long history, which we hope will continue even better after we’re gone.

We got to spend Christmas in our frosty log cabin. The house, sitting at the top of the fell, has to endure every snowstorm and fell wind, and in the heart of winter, it really shows. The red house is covered with a thick layer of frost on the windward side, and every morning, we have to kick away about half a meter of windblown snow in front of the door. In addition to frost flowers, snowdrifts as thick as whipped cream gather on the windowsills.

Inside the shelter of the logs, you can't feel or hear the wind. The thick walls exude a remarkable silence, though a corner might creak from the wind, or a log might crack from the cold, but that’s just part of the charm. I’m sure there’s an elf living on the stove ledge. I put a sandwich there in honor of Christmas, hoping the spirit of the house will welcome us new residents with a good mood.

Christmas in our log cabin was atmospheric, but chilly. The house has been left cold in winter and, as far as we know, hasn’t been lived in permanently for decades before we move in. With high electricity prices, it’s convenient to keep the large cabin unheated, but warming it up in the middle of the coldest winter is quite another matter.

E went ahead to start heating the cabin. The starting temperature indoors was -8°C. At best, we reached 18°C after five days of continuously heating the house’s five wood-burning fireplaces and stoves. For next winter, we’ll need piles of wood and more wool sweaters. But that’s how it’s always been done.

We won’t be moving into the house until late spring, during May. We’ll have time to get to know the area, grow vegetables and berries on our own land, preserve them for the fall, row on the clear-water lake, and hike in the fell terrain before the next winter’s heating routine begins. By then, we’ll have learned more about wood heating, installed hot water in addition to cold, and settled in with the house to face the northern winter together on top of the fell.

We returned to Tunturi-Lappi to celebrate the New Year. Leaving in the spring is a big deal, especially for me, and it’s wonderful that I get to spend this winter here in peace and gradually adjust to the new change. It will definitely take time and won’t be easy, but I’m more than happy with the decision. The house is the fulfillment of a dream I’ve had for as long as I can remember. While others dream of careers, family, education, or travel, I’ve always dreamed of growing my own vegetables in the yard, having wide-open space and a vast starry sky above me, and running free in meadows and fields. Now, it’s true.

A dream-filled New Year to you! Let’s make the next year at least as good as this one.✨💛

 ♥ Sanna