I just came here to say that yes, I'm still around. Even though it's been quiet lately. Why?

Mostly because not much out of the ordinary has happened in a long time. The daily routines keep going at their own pace, amidst the snow and darkness. Bringing in firewood, heating the kitchen stove and the big oven in the living room, morning walks with the dogs, personal tasks and work, then darkness falls, followed by evening activities and rest.

The silence is partly because all tasks and (wonderful) things seem to magnetically pile up at once, and then, when something happens, they all decide to unfold at the same time. Which is right about now.

There's a couple of exciting book projects in the works and a few magazine articles. My own projects are progressing, slowly, but there's no rush. I'll share more when the time comes.

Otherwise, it's peaceful on the village road. Wonderfully peaceful.

Most of the days are spent on basic tasks. We keep the house warm with one and a half meter long firewood logs, carrying about four bags in every morning from the shed, braving the wind and snow. Ice fishing overalls have proven to be the perfect everyday attire. They don’t mind if your foot slips and you fall into a snowbank on your backside while carrying wood. Every limb stays warm in the winter winds on top of the hill.

The evenings are dark. By two in the afternoon, it’s already getting dim, and by three, you can call it pitch black. I’ve adopted a two-day rhythm, something I came up with while living through the polar night in the fells of Lapland. It’s made coping with the darkness much easier.

Allow me to explain.

Day one begins in the morning, just before the light appears. Usually around seven or eight in the morning. The daylight arrives around eleven and lasts until two o'clock. That’s the first day. Day one usually ends with a natural fatigue that settles in at the same time as the darkness, around two. After that, we either a) drink a strong pot of afternoon coffee or b) take a short nap before day two can begin.

Often, E and I have our afternoon coffee, and we both pause our tasks, settling into our rocking chairs for a moment to swing and chat about this and that. It’s a bit like a coffee break at work. This is currently the best moment of the day. A still moment where two people are present, immersed in a coffee-scented conversation. No rush, no stress. Then, day two begins.

After this, day two begins, which is spent entirely in the dark and ends when we go to bed. If you’ve managed the day switch correctly, you won’t feel too tired by this point, and you can continue with your tasks and work in a relatively normal manner.

However, since it’s dark, everything moves at a slower pace. We don’t have bright lights at home, and we do our work and other activities in the soft glow of warm light. This calms the mind and reminds it that this is indeed a dark, quiet time. There’s no need to rush, as we might during the bright summer days. We can take it easy.

This rhythm has made it much easier for me to cope with the dark season. I’ve often mentioned and wondered how we’ve created a pace for ourselves that we expect to follow the same way year-round. Always as quickly and efficiently as possible. Everything in nature breathes according to the seasons and the cycle of the moon. Everything. Except us.

I really wish we could take a little inspiration from the old times, before electric lighting, and follow the natural rhythm of the world. No, I don’t mean we need to give up electricity, healthcare, and move into a hut in the woods. We can take the best parts from the past and keep the best parts of modern life. Because why not?

If we combined the old understanding of nature’s cycles with the benefits and technology brought by modern science, I believe we could improve both our quality of life and possibly even prevent a few common health issues. If we took from the past the special seasonal holidays that celebrated the changing times of both nature and human life—focusing less on who can buy the best gifts and more on being together with good, high-quality food. If we could slow down just a little and try to remember what truly matters and what maybe doesn’t as much.

Just some frosty morning thoughts for now.

Sending love and frosty winter greetings from this sleepy countryside village. I hope your November is bright and peaceful, at least in spirit. Thank you for being here.