Northern Darkness
We are living in dark times. Not mentally, but literally and physically. Snow has come and gone at least three times, and every time it melts away, the landscape gets so much darker it’s hard to believe. We have entered the season of darkness.
Lately, on the rare occasions when the sky has been clear, it has treated us to stunning northern light displays. These bring a small glimmer of actual light to the midst of the darkness. Otherwise, by two in the afternoon, you pretty much need a headlamp to walk outside—without it, you’ll inevitably end up in a ditch or walk straight into something. Trust me, I’ve tested it.
A few years ago, I came up with (or at least I think I did) the concept of two separate "days" within a single 24-hour period during the polar night. There’s the first day, which begins in the morning when the sun rises around ten or eleven and sheds its light—whatever little light that may be. Lately, due to thick fog, it hasn’t been much at all, but occasionally you catch a glimpse of it peeking over the hills. By two in the afternoon, it begins its descent, and darkness falls quickly after that.
Right now, with no snow on the ground, the darkness is pitch black. The real deal. (We don’t have streetlights or any other sources of light nearby—we’re entirely alone with our darkness.) At this time, the mind and body often begin a slow descent into sleep mode—completely at the wrong time of day. To function as expected in modern society—to be alert and active whether it’s light or dark—we typically rely on either coffee or a quick nap. And then begins the second day.
The second day takes place entirely in the dark, from around three in the afternoon until the evening. It’s not the easiest time to get things done. (Even in our home, the lighting is quite dim, and the dark wooden log walls don’t help much.) During this time, we do what we can. Often, that means reading, occasionally working on the computer, or doing tasks that don’t require bright light or intense focus.
If there’s anything you want to do or see outdoors, it has to be scheduled during the first day—those few relatively bright hours of the morning. I try to maintain the routine of going outside every day, whether for a walk with the dogs or simply wandering through nature for a moment. It helps keep both the mind and body in good shape until spring finally arrives.
We usually travel south to visit my family about twice a year (which means I see them roughly twice a year). This year, the trip took place already in early November, so the Christmas season—when we’d typically make the journey—will be spent peacefully here in the surroundings of our own home.
Normally, it’s been a bit disappointing to leave the snowy winter wonderland in December and spend a full day driving south, where there’s rarely snow that early in the season. This time, however, even our yard looked just as gray as the streets in the south, so the trip went by without any major cultural shock.
How did the long journey pass? Naturally, by knitting. I promised to knit E a new wool sweater on the condition that he’d drive us south. Needless to say, the deal was mutually agreed upon in an instant.
After our trip to the south, we don’t have any major plans or travels left for the rest of the year. Lovely. I’m more than happy to spend these long, dark evenings reading and knitting by the glow of the fireplace.
Recently, I read such an amazing book that I just have to mention it and recommend it to others. The book, Endurance by Alfred Lansing, tells the incredible story of an adventure on the Arctic seas near the South Pole from 1914 to 1916. Originally written in 1959, I couldn’t put it down. In the preface, it states that the story is true, but I didn’t believe it until I looked it up myself.
The story—yes, a true story—revolves around seafarer Ernest Shackleton and his attempt to cross Antarctica in 1914 with a crew of 28, aboard a wooden sailing ship and using the “camping” gear of the time. The attempt failed and turned into a harrowing fight for survival, pitting 29 resourceful and resilient men against what’s known as the world’s most dangerous stretch of ocean, in conditions that make the word "Arctic" sound like an understatement.
I love adventure books, and this was one of the best I’ve ever read.
Today, nature gifted us a touch of new light in the form of a delicate snowfall. To celebrate, a friend and I went on a hike to a remote hill where bears are known to roam. We wondered whether they had already settled into their winter dens or if they might still be wandering around, given that there’s barely any snow yet.
We didn’t see a single soul—neither human nor bear—and instead had the pale, quiet wilderness all to ourselves. It was a serene moment, surrounded by the hushed forest, lightly dusted in white.
Next week, winter is finally expected to begin. According to the forecast, we might get up to 30 centimeters of snow. Looks like it’s all coming at once, with winter making up for lost time. I’m waiting for it like a little kid watching out the window. Winter, in case you didn’t know, is my favorite season.
I’ve been wrestling with a new video project. It’s progressing slowly but surely, and it might just see the light of day next week. Ha, what an apt expression for this moment, don’t you think?
Wishing you light and maybe even a sprinkle of snow to brighten your November days. Thank you for being here. <3
♥ Sanna