Tales of the beautiful everyday from the North
When the pale light fades
62.45°N
It isn’t as far north as I would love to live, but it is still an environment I love a lot. The days are short by any normal standard of living, but I wish they were shorter.
Waking up after 9 and getting a cup of hot coffee in my hands to stand at the window and watch magnificent winter sunrises that last forever is something I will always cherish of this place.
Finally some centimetres of snow fell over the weekend, likely burying any last remaining clear lake ice. It feels so wrong that we reach winter solstice in under one month already. Like the short days of always golden sunlight, orange clouds, and midday twilight just don’t last long enough.
How can you make sense of this overwhelming love of winter? The deprivation of sunlight giving deeper meaning to the presence of it maybe. Feeling the sunlight hit my face this time of year is magical. Just like all of winter, those little moments slow me down to absorb more. Molasses, ginger, cardamom and allspice bring this comforting warmth inside, and I am sure coffee never tastes better. Warmth of a candle or a car vent mean so much. I crave to sleep a lot, and to be wrapped up in soft and cosy fabrics.
So for this feeling of home which the depth of winter brings me? Maybe it is the sharp contrasts leading to greater recognition. More conscious recognition and loving-on. The dark and the light, the warm and cold, like drinking a hot coffee sitting in -33°. Maybe it is something more innate, something in my bones or my soul, or something picked up somewhere along my way.
But for right now with tired eyes in dim lighting, I tuck away in my linen bedding, pushing aside half a mountain of pillows, and in 7 hours maybe I’ll be awake for sunrise, but maybe I’ll sleep right through it. Either way it’s okay, because winter is for slowing down and staying cosy. So let the winter winds blow, the snow drifts grow, and the dim window lights continue to glow.
The aurora, moonlight, and singing ice
"I really think that is the most calming sounds I've ever heard in my life."
There was nothing in the world that could have made me more happy for these hours. I could hardly sleep this night after.
Listening to such beautiful sounds from the ice the whole night, and to feel this beautiful moonlight all around while the northern lights are dancing so slowly. Like life was passing in slow motion, in this surreal, perfect calm. I just wanted to lay there forever. I could not have been happier if I had just won the lottery. Truly not.
The ice was only ever silent for seconds at a time. Sounds would come whistling from the other side of the lake. The loudest ones echoing after. I wondered how the people in their cabins on the shore could ever sleep. It may have been negative 20 something, but how could you resist leaving your window open just the smallest crack to listen all night.
I thought the whole world needed to be in on this. The aurora and the moon — they hold their own beauty, and it is one that is extraordinary. It was the slowness of the aurora for so much of the night that added a further calming rather than overwhelment. And despite my unwavering love of darkness, the moon gave life to all of this. It would not have been possible, not in this way, without it. So as much as I love the new moon phase, the hour by hour of pitch black outside, and the darkness of winter as a whole, the moonlight was indeed perfect. With my face resting down on the ice, I move my head ever so slightly and in that second, dozens of snowflakes just in front of my nose would catch my eye with a twinkle by moonlight.
Beautiful moments on beautiful moments.
Cautious steps out into a singing ice
For more than 24 hours, as I sit beginning to write this, the wind has been gusting strong. Definitely it is not relenting from last night in the centre of a lake. Specific edges and corners of this perfect little home allow through the most subtle drafts if you are sensitive enough. The wind audibly rumbles along the exterior walls, and the windows shake a bit in the strongest gusts. It wakes me in the middle of the night.
I don’t mind it at all. It’s the exact winter I love most, such harsh conditions outside and the cosiest safe place inside.
"I knew within seconds of stepping out of my car; I was severely underdressed."
That safe and cosy place sometimes is nestling right into my parka in an otherwise open and exposed, brutal environment. The fur trim of my hood wraps up and around my face, always catching my peripheral vision.
Despite tucking my chin right down into the top of my parka zipped all the way up, my poor little nose could not be spared. A balaclava would have been nice. There was little doubt I also should have had mittens instead of gloves, and my mukluks instead of hiking boots.
My fingers and toes froze, but I just couldn’t bring myself to tiptoe back across the ice to the car to properly warm them up. The aurora was too beautiful, and in that obsessed-with-the-power-of-nature kind of the way, the brutal wind was too special. It was raw. But even still, moments of turning away to shelter from the wind felt less of a conscious choice than pure instinctual reaction.
"Facing the wind head on was the only option if I wanted to watch her dance."
Like a cross between a wind tunnel and whales communicating
The ice sung all night, and it was even more beautiful than the few nights before. It was the most perfect company—an ultimate soothing in the chaos of the wind.
Usual high and low pitch bubbles of sound were consistent throughout the night. They were gentle and soothing, and as if you were listening in super slow motion. It’s comforting far more than it is unsettling.
A wish it would never end
Almost 8 hours after I ran out the door, I came back upstairs for a far-beyond-midnight bowl of chocolate Life cereal and was genuinely shocked at the chaos of my kitchen.
I had caught myself completely off guard with just how quickly I ran out of the house a little after 7:30pm.
Shepherd’s pie, saran wrap, and a half drunk cup of tea
I, evidently, messy poured a pot of tea mostly.. partly, into my thermos before running out the front door with my parka hanging by it’s hood off my head, my gloves and toque shoved into my unzipped shoulder camera bag, and with my tripod wedged against my hip being held with my arm, I managed to lock the front door behind me, mostly sure I had all what I needed.
Left behind sitting on the counter was a mostly cooled down uncovered shepherd’s pie, a box of saran wrap for which there was no time, and a half drunk cup of tea which did manage to make it at least into the kitchen from the sofa.
It was from that exact place where I mindlessly tapped ‘SpaceWeatherLive’ on my iPhone, then ‘GOES Magnetometer’, and all within about 5 seconds, I turned to look out the window, got up from the sofa and ran toward the kitchen sliding a half full cup of tea across the counter while rounding the corner to stampede down the stairs and get changed.
I did make it back upstairs to fill my thermos with tea though, of course.
The weak in the stomach feeling
It was the kind of night the aurora could definitely maybe, probably I think if you’re lucky, be visible in Vancouver or Montana. And by the end of the night, during that last hour and the last few photos I took, I knew without a doubt she was. The behaviour of the aurora becomes distinctly unique and the perspective very rare.
16-17 March 2013 in Vancouver, BC.
3-4 November 2021 in Yellowknife, NT.
My heart ached in a strange way, the way it always does when I know the aurora is far reaching. It is mostly a surrealness and raw nostalgia.
It had been the most spectacular night tonight, I could not have asked for more.
Do you hear it?
Soothing singing and goosebumps
Listening to the sounds of the ice while it is beginning to really freeze from a few centimetres is one of my favourite sounds.
You have to imagine the total silence of the nature and from nowhere, echoing pings which feel so natural and soft but also like thunderclaps that make your arm hairs stand.
If it really does become cold now, I hope so much to sit out on the ice and try to record some sounds. Let’s see how the next days are. Håller tummarna.
Signs of winter
The early signs of winter feel late, but I am happy. The flora is soft still, the berries are hanging on, and the ground is entirely snowless, but not frostless. Ice forms overnight but melts away during the day. Iced windows on cars is an every night occurrence now, and each time I freeze my fingers for one more last car wash of the year, I mentally prepare for it to be my last.
I hate to have a dirty car. I really, really don’t love it.
But this was far too beautiful of a day to worry about how dirty the back of my car would be hours later, and the long term forecast still had +6s and +7s in it, so my hose would not be frozen solid yet.
I didn’t know where I wanted to go, I didn’t have any place in mind. Driving just clears my mind.
"October sunshine is not a cheap sunshine."
The sun is all day low in the sky now. The warmth of the sunlight both in temperature and colour is the perfect feeling. It is a strong contrast to the cool air, the cold water, how nature has shed so much leaving just bare branches. October sunshine is not a cheap sunshine. It’s the kind you feel in your bones and in your soul, the kind that makes the forest almost call out in such overwhelming beauty and stillness.
Maybe nothing felt nicer than just sitting out here, sipping hot coffee, occasionally feeling a cloud of mist rush up off the water.
The light changed so slowly and subtly. When the sun did fall behind the trees, there became this almost eerie stillness and immediate chill in the air. The wind died, the river upstream became totally still on the surface and the colours all around so muted.
The drive home was peaceful and interrupted more than once for some moments of bliss with the sunset.
Dinner didn’t take long tonight. It was a leftovers night of course. I took my forever evening tea with me and drove again for the open sky, the water which gently laps at the shore and after some time, the aurora dancing furiously right above.
This was a long, long day, but with almost all of it in the company of warm drinks and nature. This is the most beautiful life, one I really long for in the most consistent way.
