Still life in winter

Winter quietude has settled in. It’s been here for about three weeks. The first snow fell on October 7th, and it hasn’t melted away—it’s only grown, transforming from slushy wet snow into a beautiful, glittering frost.

The neighbor’s boy clears the village road whenever enough white fluff accumulates. We’re still handling our own yard by hand, but we’ve already agreed that when we tire of shoveling our rather large yard, the neighbor will swing by with his tractor to clear it for us.

For now, I’m enjoying the snowy scenery and the morning exercise.

Time moves slowly, wonderfully slowly. The evenings and mornings are dark, or at least dimming. October is often heavy, but towards the end, it has brightened up with the glow of snow and candlelight. When the sky isn't blanketed by snowy clouds, it offers its October lights almost every clear night. The northern lights illuminate the snow with a green glow, and the evening dog walks in the crisp, frosty air feel almost embarrassingly magical under the dancing auroras.

I often find myself wandering in the evening darkness, following the tracks of reindeer and hares on the snowy crust of the nearby forest, thinking about how incredibly fortunate I am. I get to live here, on this tiny village road atop the hill, where the North Star shines above and the northern lights leap like wild animals from one horizon to the other. Sometimes, I feel almost embarrassingly happy. Then again, this has been a long-held dream and goal. Now that it's here, I don't believe it takes anything away from others if I've achieved my dream. I want to tell and remind everyone that dreams aren’t just distant, gold-edged clouds somewhere far away, but attainable possibilities. What do you dream about?

During these long and dark evenings, I’ve been learning something new. I got hooked on baking sourdough bread. I made the starter from scratch, which took a week, and since then, I’ve baked nearly a dozen different kinds of sourdough loaves. I borrowed the book Leipävallankumous (The Bread Revolution) from the library. Right at the beginning, there’s a warning that says, "This is addictive, there’s no going back." I can see that now.

Store-bought bread tastes like cardboard compared to fresh sourdough straight from the oven. Plus, I’ve really grown to love the slow process of making it. If I feel like having bread today, the earliest I’ll pull it out of the oven is the morning after tomorrow. Along with learning baking skills, my patience has been growing steadily, which is a good thing for someone like me who tends to rush through things.

At the same time, I’m learning to embrace the ups and downs of success and failure. The first three or four loaves tasted amazing, but they turned out a bit flat and unimpressive.

After about ten loaves, the result is finally starting to look like the one on the cover of the book. Let’s just say, we won’t be buying anything from the bakery section at the store anymore.

A couple of days ago, we went on a winter hike near the hills by the eastern border. The border runs very close, and the area is home to many bears and wolves. We passed about a hundred meters from a hide used for bear photography and a bear feeding spot. In winter, the area was empty, but had we been there a month ago in the early hours of the morning, we probably would have crossed paths with a larger, pawed traveler.

The candle-shaped spruces on the slopes had already begun to don their winter festive attire, settling quietly under the weight of the heavy snow. The landscape could easily be mistaken for April.

This winter is going to be a long one. With snow covering the ground as early as October, and probably not melting away until sometime in June, we’re looking at a winter that lasts more than eight months. We're anxiously waiting to see how our old house—one that inevitably lets the cold creep in through the corners—will hold up against the storms and winds for such an extended period. Then again, the house will be fine; it’s been standing here for over a century. The real question is, how will we manage through it.

Life has largely centered around home and housework lately. In addition to baking bread, I’ve undertaken a deep cleaning to sweep away the autumn leaves and dust from the corners, preparing the house for winter. We don't clean very often, simply because the house is large, and I don't find it necessary to scrub it spotless every week. It’s part of the charm of an old house—not every corner needs to smell like cleaning products, and over time, the worn and scratched wooden floors aren’t meant to shine. But when I do clean, I do it thoroughly and properly.

The dogs contributed to cleaning day by keeping watch, ensuring that the reindeer didn’t snatch up the bedding and rugs that were airing outside.

At the same time, I washed the windows and placed some lichen and moss that I had collected in the fall between the window panes. There’s a practical purpose for them, as the windows tend to frost and freeze over on cold days. The dried lichen and moss act like a sponge, absorbing the moisture that gets trapped between the panes, keeping the windows clear and the wood from rotting. There are bigger solutions to tackle this moisture issue next summer, but for now, this will get us through the winter.

Besides, I find them incredibly beautiful—like a little autumn world tucked between the windows.

I'm heading back to tend the wood-burning oven now. I've got a good routine going—heating it thoroughly every other day keeps the indoor temperature comfortably around 18 degrees Celsius. It’s a perfect indoor temperature if you ask me. I find it strange that even in winter, people expect to hang around indoors in short sleeves and without socks. Plus, it gives me a great reason to use the wool socks and sweaters I've knitted.

So glad you're here and made it to the end. Sending you wintery greetings and lots of light for your evenings. ❤️

P.S. The lake by our house froze over completely the night before last. It was the last one in the area to freeze, while the others have been under solid ice for a couple of weeks already. Next week, I'll be going fishing with the old man from next door to help him set up nets under the ice.

♥ Sanna