The sun has returned!

Our neighbor mentioned that they last saw the sun in October. Although the polar night passed a while ago and doesn’t last longer than a few weeks for us, this winter has been particularly cloudy, snowy, and foggy. So it’s quite possible that the sun really hasn’t been here since October.

At least, that’s how it feels.

In previous years, the light hasn’t felt as wonderfully powerful as it does now. Perhaps it has indeed been surprisingly absent for a long time, and the polar night felt especially dark. Maybe my own winter illness has worn me out, and now the light brings a whole new energy. It doesn’t really matter; this feels absolutely wonderful, and I plan to make the most of it.

At first, the sun only brushed the treetops, teasing us with its beauty just out of reach. It colored the horizon in shades of deep purple and then slipped back into the blue.

But very quickly, within just a few days, its rays reached all the way to the riverbank. It cleared the sky of the dark blue of the polar night. The remarkably bright sky reminded me of spring.

I’ve been spending a lot of time by the river. The ice situation has been problematic this winter, and only now have I dared to walk on the river’s ice, as the tracks left by villagers' snowmobiles confirm that the ice is indeed strong. As a tip, it’s worth noting that snowmobiles can sometimes travel over thin water, so this isn’t a foolproof sign of ice stability. We wouldn’t want anything to go wrong. Luckily, I know that my neighbors' snowmobiles are the heavier models that don’t run on water, so I feel safe following their tracks onto the ice.

The ice has created new pathways. It’s fantastic to be able to ski and even walk as far as I want on the ice. In the forest, there’s nearly a meter of snow at this time of year, and even with backcountry skis, you can sink up to your knees before the snow may harden later in the spring.

In the mornings, we now take long walks on the ice with the dogs. The day begins to brighten at just the right time, around nine or ten o'clock, when we would normally go outside anyway. Now, we can truly enjoy being outdoors in daylight, not just in the blue twilight of the polar night.

After our walk, I often lie down on the ice or sit on a slope, soaking up the sun. I absorb it like a flower drinking water at the end of a dry spell. I’m certain that it recharges us in ways beyond just the mental level. It energizes everything else alive on this planet, so why wouldn’t it do the same for us?

Winter is only halfway through. There are still about four months left until spring—or well, summer, since spring doesn’t really exist at this latitude. I’ve received some feedback from a few friends living up north that I don’t need to be reminded that there are still four months of winter left. Heh. I don’t even realize it myself.

The sun brings with it a remarkable energy. I’ve been brimming with energy in a whole new way on the days when the sun has appeared. I can busy myself outside for the entire morning—meaning the daylight hours. After that, I move inside to keep at it, continuing in the same way until evening. The daytime naps of the polar night have become a thing of the past. My body now craves movement, being outside, and activity.

This is how I’ve learned that not all winters are the same. And how much the type of winter affects my own well-being, my energy levels, and my activities each year.

I enjoy being able to observe the seasons and years from the same spot over a long period. I learn how nature operates at different times and how its cycle changes with the seasons.

I’ve started to feel a bit sad that this will be the last winter in this place. That in spring, possibly even before the snow melts, we’ll be moving to a new location about which I know nothing regarding its seasonal cycles and nature. Everything will have to start over again.

On the other hand, it’s incredibly inspiring to learn the natural rhythms of a new place and commit them to memory. To marvel at and be amazed by the same things from a different perspective. Especially since this new place will likely become a long-term home.