The first hues of autumn and a breath of the forest

Autumn has arrived in its full spectrum over the past few weeks, almost like a thief in the night. I think I say that about every season, but that's truly how it feels. Maybe it's because I have no control over when each season arrives or how it unfolds. And that’s a good thing.

Mornings and evenings have shifted from the bright, high-definition colors of summer to a concert of soft hues. The forest seems to sigh in the warmth of the day, often wrapping itself in a misty blanket at night, like a cloud of cotton.

In the mornings, the first rays of the sun chase the mist away to dream in better places, while the golden light paints the pine trees, gilding everything it touches.

The morning forest is a magical place.

I’ve made it a part of my autumn routine to visit the forest next to our village at least once. It's old and beautiful, like it's been adorned for hundreds of years. As you step inside, through the lichen-draped branches, and feel the soft moss beneath your feet, everything else fades away.

This forest has become like a second home. It’s where I go when I need to breathe. In there, time simply doesn’t exist.

Even though the autumn colors haven’t fully peaked yet, they’ve already started dressing the woods in vibrant reds and yellows. The view from our window has shifted quickly from the lush green of summer to the golden hues of autumn.

What I’ve been most excited about are the rowan trees, with their deep, vivid fall colors. Back in my previous home in Tunturi-Lappi, there weren’t many rowans, but here, they line every yard and village road. In Finnish folklore, the rowan tree has long been a symbol of comfort and protection, and now I understand why. People would come to it for solace, make wishes, and recite protective charms beneath its branches.

The rowan is among the first trees to shine in its autumnal glory, like royalty walking a ceremonial path. Maybe it knows we’ve revered it for centuries and has taken its rightful place as the first to show its colors.

The last blueberries are still basking in the sun on their now-red branches. We’ve been out picking blueberries a couple of times, but the autumn rains have interfered with the harvest. It seems there will be fewer blueberries in the freezer this year compared to last. It’s a bit disappointing, but with a wider variety of berries coming in this season, we should be just fine through the winter..

Our living environment is fascinating and incredibly diverse. The village is surrounded by fields and natural meadows, and beyond them rises an ancient forest filled with candle-like spruces and patches of lichen. Behind that lies a lake, whose rocky shores plunge deep into the dark waters. Each of these places has its own unique flora and its own world. Standing by the lake’s edge feels like being in the heart of the wilderness. The haunting call of a loon echoes from across the water, and the barren, rocky shores only support the toughest and most resilient plants.

Yet around our house, during the summer, there’s a bloom of flowers that feels straight out of a Disney fairy tale. Swallows fly by, chirping as they go, then return to the power lines to chatter amongst themselves. Various butterfly species indulge in the flower buffet of our yard before drifting off to bask in the meadows.

I take so much pleasure in the sheer variety of life here and marvel at how everything coexists so peacefully. We do our best to live in our own little corner, without disturbing the prevailing harmony too much.

The floral glory of summer's fairy tale is now coming to an end. Only a few hardy blooms remain, basking in the warmth of the morning sun, while most have already surrendered and are waiting for next summer's magic to begin again.

A few days ago, we went on an early morning hike. We woke up at five, packed coffee and snacks, and set off for a popular trail, hoping to walk it in peace. The morning turned out to be incredibly beautiful. Fog swirled around the hills, draping the tops of the candle-like spruces, and only when the sun gathered its strength did it reveal the views of rushing rapids and rocky cliffs below in the valley.

I'll write more about this hike in my next post, so stay tuned!

Sending greetings from the depths of the forest. I hope your autumn is off to a great start.

♥ Sanna