Eternal winter in the North of Finland - Life and thoughts

Hello everyone. Here we are, trudging through what feels like eternal winter. In the south, they’ve experienced a late winter, but here, it doesn’t seem to be much of a return to winter because it hasn’t really changed for us.

Snow is falling even now as I write this from the calm of a Sunday morning with a coffee cup. I’m starting to seriously doubt the truth behind the comforting saying that new snow is the death of the old. Right now, it feels like both are just gaining strength from each other.

This winter has lasted longer than any I remember in my life. I’ve tried to take advantage of the good aspects, like being able to ski daily. The village ski trail was last groomed just yesterday, even though they had threatened to stop maintaining it. Apparently, they realized that there are still some great skiing conditions ahead.

Sometimes I listen with envy to stories from the south about cleaning greenhouses, soil-scented fingertips, and the first blooming spring flowers. I can imagine the smell of the earth, the warmth of the sun on my skin, and the colorful first flights of butterflies.

Instead, we go on skiing trips with a sled and skis, dig out a place in the meter-deep snow for a campfire, and enjoy a cup of coffee in the shade of a spruce for as long as we can tolerate the winter chill before heading back to warm up in the cabin.

For one week, we left the cabin heating behind and headed back to our old stomping grounds in Pallas-Yllästunturi National Park with our skis. Ah, what a wonderful feeling it was to visit these familiar landscapes. There is something indescribably magical about the blue-and-white snow-covered peaks of the fells. Have you tried it? I highly recommend it.

We were in Fell Lapland visiting friends who are moving across the Atlantic to new adventures. Lapland seems to be a place where few stay. The departure of our friends is a real loss, as there aren’t many of us in these latitudes. Those who do live here are far enough away that we don’t share coffee moments every day. However, as they say here, it’s not a trip or anything, and that’s true. A day's drive to visit a friend is quite normal and, of course, worth every bit of effort.

That weekend was like sunshine to plants that have grown in the dark of winter. Maybe we are plants that have grown in the dark. E and I lay on the fell snow for long moments, soaking up the warmth of the sun and the charm of the windless moments as if we had just emerged from a barrel. Those moments nourished our spirits immensely.

Back at home, the same old tasks continue. My knitting projects are progressing at a pace that’s starting to strain my wrists a bit. I had to take a mandatory break to avoid ruining my health with it. But I got really excited. You know how it is.

First, I got into creating my own sock and mitten patterns. And since I’ve never designed knits before, I didn’t really understand how it’s done, so I mostly figured it out through knitting.

I knitted a pair of socks with a fair isle pattern that I came up with myself. But when they were finished, I felt they were a bit too chaotic. I knitted a new pair of socks with a simpler design. Those also turned out a bit odd. I knitted a third pair. Hmm, what would this pattern look like in a different color? I knitted another pair. Now I’m on what might be the sixth pair and I’m starting to think there must be a better way than knitting out all the ideas. Well, at least I’ll have woolen socks for next winter.

In addition, I started a new sweater for myself (since I realized I haven’t knitted a sweater for myself at all this winter!), but it turned out better for E than for me. Sigh. My wrists are getting a cold-hot treatment and it’s time to knit something new for myself.

In addition, I have (of course) been baking sourdough bread. I continue to bake it once a week. Some of it I give to the neighbors, most of it we eat ourselves. From the neighbors, I often receive jam, juice, or, for example, this week, several kilos of seed potatoes and a few tomato seedlings. I love this kind of barter! Wouldn’t it be great if the world worked more like this?

In addition, I’ve been trying to better market my photography shop (you might already know, but it can be found here). Marketing oneself or one’s work feels—honestly speaking—quite dreadful. Maybe it’s the Finnish nature, perhaps the modesty of being from Kainuu, but presenting one’s own work feels entirely wrong. Like pushing and shoving. Desperate selling.

I have learned that it doesn’t necessarily have to be that way, and if you want something to happen, you have to speak up, tell, and show. An introvert’s nightmare. Digital tools make it a bit easier, at least from an introvert’s perspective. I can think, write, and visualize my message in peace. It’s still not enjoyable.

But, lo and behold, it’s producing results. By talking in my own way about what I do and that you can buy photo prints of the northern nature from me, people are actually buying them. I don’t know what I imagined, but somehow, it’s surprising. Once I’ve gotten over my surprise (usually relatively quickly), I’m incredibly happy and a bit proud (although, of course, it’s not something one should say out loud; thankfully, I can write it correctly here) of my achievements.

I absolutely enjoy going to pick up my photo prints from a local one-man print shop, packaging them, attaching my handwritten message, and taking them back to the village 45 km away to be sent out into the world. Maybe I’m slowly teaching myself that promoting one’s own work isn’t as vain and pointless as I might think.

And if you’ve ordered something from me, a huge thank you. You’re helping me build a small business here in the middle of a remote village. Something that nowadays is not a given, as the world seems to focus unquestioningly on big cities and their surroundings.

Today marks exactly one year since we moved to our little village in the middle of nowhere. We’re celebrating the anniversary with sourdough baking and a peaceful Sunday. It’s snowing outside; maybe we could go skiing as well. A typical Finnish way to celebrate.

This has perhaps been the best year of my life. The previous ones haven’t been bad either, but this place is something that deeply resonates with great happiness, joy, and peace. I hope I can live here for possibly the rest of my life.

It’s wonderful to have you along on this journey, thank you for that <3 I’ll be back soon with a new video. Until then, enjoy the so-called spring and have peaceful days.

♥ Sanna