The depth of winter
From the solstice, we have gained already more than one hour of daylight. Just like that, it feels as though the darkness of winter begins to slip away. The full moon rises over the middle of the day and sets not until the late morning. From that, the darkness of the evenings does not fully come and blue hour carries an even more special feeling. The deep blue twilight sky over a snow covered countryside feels incredibly nostalgic. Younger, but no less in love, I chased these beautiful hours of light through the very north of Scandinavia for months at a time. They represented the everyday magic of life I longed so deeply for.
The nostalgia of those days helps me to better enjoy these ones. It gives a connection of love to these chases of light and hours of stillness in winterscapes. It helps to separate what I love so much, this northern everyday life, from the government and from their policy decisions. It helps to take away the names, to detach those superficialities from the forests, the lakes, the light and the temperatures to preserve that love, and that wonder of life that is so essential to life.
"The deep blue twilight sky over a snow covered landscape feels incredibly nostalgic."
In these few days of only -20°, it feels like I can breathe easier and connect more purely. I can keep my balaclava down a little bit more, feel the cold air on my face, keep my hood down to hear more, even to breathe deeper breaths. All of the magic in the memories of those forever-ago polar night skies I can bring into these winter night skies, and that feels very needed. Beyond words.
