Hello February. It has started out beautifully, with snow and sunshine. Almost as if making up for the poor winter performance of its predecessors and giving its best effort. As I write this, I can see from the window how the village ski trail is being maintained by a snowmobile as it passes through our field. We have already spent good moments skiing on the frozen lake and through the forest wetlands, but having a groomed trail right from our yard brings a nice change from trudging through deep snow.

The sun has brought new energy and ideas. Somehow, it surprises me every year, even though writing it down makes it seem so obvious. But you can feel it deeply. As if the new year does not truly begin until the sun in February starts casting its light over our snowy world.

You could dream forever in a snowy forest—if only the cold did not creep in so quickly. The sun makes every snowflake sparkle in a way that no digital screen can truly capture, no matter how hard I try. The winter world is undeniably beautiful.

Lately, I have been knitting a lot. You might ask, what is new about that? In itself, nothing—but this time, I have been knitting something entirely new: my own knitting designs!

I have been knitting for over fifteen years, and there is no end in sight. Moving up north gave knitting and wool a whole new meaning when I realized that these eight-month-long winters cannot be endured with cheap store-bought polyester “wool” sweaters. Wool plays a major role in both my and E’s daily wardrobe—literally from head to toe.

I also grew up with a strong craft tradition. My grandmother was a skilled knitter from Kainuu, and I remember always wearing her beautifully colorful wool mittens in winter. There was a big basket full of them on the entryway shelf, and I could always pick a pair I liked before heading outside to play. My aunt has also been knitting her whole life, along with other crafts, which I keep trying to convince her to sell at the local market. But in true Kainuu fashion, she is modest and refuses to believe how incredibly talented she is.

The surrounding nature and traditional Nordic knitting patterns are an endless source of inspiration. Did you know that in the past, most knitters (which meant nearly all women) created their own designs and gave them deep meanings? Along the coastal regions, for example, each family had its own unique pattern. Fishermen wore sweaters adorned only with their family’s design. If a fishing boat wrecked and lives were lost at sea, the men could be identified by their knit patterns and brought home to rest. A tragic yet profoundly beautiful tradition.

Drawing from my Kainuu and Lapland heritage, as well as the surrounding nature, I have started designing my own knitting patterns. Often, just before falling asleep, my mind fills with new ideas, color schemes, and designs. Once I started, I simply could not stop.

And now, finally, I have written my first knitting pattern—a traditional Nordic mitten design inspired by snow—and published it.

The pattern is called Flakes of Snow Mittens, inspired by the light, softly falling frost snow of February. While thinking of a name, I laughed at how many words we have for snow—probably thousands—so there was no shortage of options. The mittens are relatively easy to knit, using only two colors at a time with a simple pattern.

For now, the knitting pattern is available only on Ravelry (a website dedicated to knitters and crafters—I highly recommend checking it out if it is new to you!), but it will soon be available here on my website as well.

If you are not familiar with Ravelry or prefer not to create an account, you can always email me at heisanna@sannavaara.com to purchase the pattern directly. The knitting pattern costs €8.16 and is available in both Finnish and English.

Whether you buy the pattern from Ravelry or via email, you will receive a downloadable PDF that includes written instructions and a chart for knitting the mittens.

Other exciting things have happened this February as well. In addition to working on knitting patterns, my time has been spent with a new family member.

A few weeks ago, Myy the dog, a three-year-old Finnish Lapponian Dog, joined our family. Her previous home could no longer keep her, so she moved in with us—and she fits into our pack perfectly.

Myy came to us as a kennel dog, so she is still getting used to home life—eating indoors and going on walks. She seems to be adjusting quickly, though, and is thoroughly enjoying her new life filled with soft rugs and cozy sofas.

She is the perfect addition to Papu and Rover’s little club. She has the energy to run and wrestle with Rover but is also calm and loves naps and mealtimes with Papu. Surprisingly, she is very fond of human company as well and often sleeps on the couch pressed right up against us.

Myy has found her place in our home and our lives, and I am excited for all the adventures ahead with her.

I also published a new YouTube video this morning, where I talk more about the topics mentioned above.

The video itself has been a bit of a headache. I had planned to start editing it over a week and a half ago, only to realize that I had carelessly, yet annoyingly deliberately, formatted the camera's memory card—the one that held all the footage—and ignored the warning message in red font that said, "WARNING: All content on this card will be deleted. Do you want to continue?" And just like that, the result of a couple of weeks of filming disappeared into the digital abyss.

However, I heard that the files could still be recovered by purchasing a one-year license for a certain software and downloading it to my computer. I quickly calculated the cost of my filming and figured it might be worth just under a hundred euros. I bought the license and downloaded the program. Immediately, I received a text from my bank: "Your card has been frozen immediately due to suspicious activity. Please contact us as soon as possible." Yeah, and I didn’t recover the files.

But, enough complaining. I rolled up my sleeves, filmed new material, and the video is finally finished. Getting it off the computer took over 10 hours, and uploading it to YouTube took about 13 hours. Let’s just say I’m not making any hourly wage from this, no matter how you calculate it.

There have definitely been some bumps along the way in this multi-year project (for instance, right now there's a drone lost somewhere in the middle of our home lake under the snow, and even after shoveling for half the day, it’s still nowhere to be found…) and yet, you still always find yourself dreaming up the next video, photo, song, or knitting pattern.

Crazy work, I’d say, but that’s how it should be. Things are done for the sake of enjoying (almost) the whole process. No point in crunching numbers, the bread will find its way to the table anyway—especially if you make it yourself, heh heh.

So, here’s to more madness and creativity in life! Enjoy the video, maybe even watch it twice since it’s been filmed twice :D

🖤 Sanna