The Reign Of Night.

The day of the winter solstice is a time of celebration for all of us here in the cold North. It indicates a conclusion of the reign of Night and the end of the period of perpetual twilight, which has ruled our world for the past many months.

The shortest day is upon us - yet slowly, by each week, light will commence its return, signifying that the best lies ahead.

Nevertheless, until the reign of light fully announces its presence, we take comfort in another kind of illumination - the multitude of candles that spread joy and create that one of a kind atmosphere throughout our homes, signaling that Christmas is almost here.

Midnight Twilligt Finale.

The eighth of August officially marks the conclusion of our white nights. This means sadly that the second season is closing towards its end.
Yet, as we enter the summer finale, I am also entering the last weeks of my solitude. In less than a month, I will once again rest in the arms of the man I love, welcoming him home. I look forward to this time with excitement, longing and anticipation.

I have neglected to update this online diary as of lately and have graced this page with my absence. It is all unintentional - the will is there and my draft folder is full of reflective writing complimented by stunning photography. Yet I have simply not been able to find the time to share it all with you.
The reason might be that my move North has been a very successful move in every possible way. I have found not just true love and happiness here, but also a new family and new friends - all of these have added purpose and content to my days, drawing my attention and time elsewhere in a very welcomed way.
Thus despite my solitude, I have not really been alone - nor bored.

The only day of the week that allows me to spend my time here undisturbed is on a Friday morning. Immersed in the silence of a newborn day, I currently enjoy sitting outside with a cup of fresh brewed coffee, savoring the warmth of a late summer sun on my face, watching its rays reflected in our dew covered lawn. The sunshine carries with it a promise of a new, beautiful day, when anything can unfold and anything is possible.
These are those perfect moments in time that reinforce the allure of just being alive.

Nature and its endless enchantment and beauty is responsible for the best memories I carry within my recollection. Just like the photography below.
These images are my farewell tribute to the summer sun, as it now slowly accelerates its departure from our views. Captured one evening this July, from a house on a small picturesque island in the Swedish archipelago, they allowed me to marvel over a stunning sunset as it unfolded in my view for over ninety minutes, ending shortly before midnight.
Until next year.

(Note: The photographs below are taken in Sweden last month.
However the images throughout the post are taken in the proximity of our home last week, as I enjoyed an evening stroll along the North Sea with good friends.) 

Sea Of Sunshine.

If I had to define the month of May here in Scandinavia with only one word, it would be raps. That is the Danish word for rapeseed. During mid-spring, their blossoms create oceans of yellow, covering the landscape, contrasting in perfect harmony with the blue of the sky and the green of the forests and fields.

Whenever I have the privilege to take walks in nature when these fields are in bloom, the experience is incredibly revitalizing. The breeze makes the long stalks sway, resembling rippled surface on a sea of sunshine. The golden colour has such a soothing effect on ones well being, as it signifies life and warmth. Additionally, rapebloom carries a deep sweet scent, and the perfumed air completes the experience, satisfying all the senses.
Add a clear, spring sunny day to the mix and the result is the beauty of a natural splendour and a joy of a simple pleasure.

(All images taken with my iPhone in the proximity of my home)

Festival Of Light.

Once again, our evening sky becomes lit up as a silver hue settles across the heavens upon sunset. We commence the time of white nights here in the cold North and the countdown to midnight sun has begun, even though my position is in the southern most Scandinavia, where the midnight sun is used as a symbolical term only.

Still, our day has gained almost nine hours since winter solstice and the time of dusk is now stretched to comprise one hour short of midnight and is only growing. In a month the night will truly be white, or light as we say here.

I love this time of the year and it is now that my heart experiences a bittersweet longing for the views I once had at my disposal at the white house on the hill. Every day, with the onset in May, offered spectacular sunset skies and an endless twilight horizon. Today all I see are treetops and red roofs.
However, that is life - we gain some and we loose some. I have gained on so many other levels, that this is sacrifice I gladly take.

On our recent drive home from one of the Danish islands, after visiting my husbands family, we experience beautiful views of a late sunset as it unraveled over the sea, before we embarked on a ferry to take us home. Later we watched the silver skies accompany us home all the way through to the other side of midnight.
It made me realize that even though I do not get to see the stunning views on regular bases, the few times I get the privilege to see them makes the experience even more precious and enchanting.

Countdown To Midnight Sun.

Last week marked the beginning of the Scandinavian White Nights. These are the short nights of the North. A magical time, when the daylight reigns and sun sets late at night.

White Nights, also called Light Nights, last officially in my part of the world from the 5th of May to the 7th of August (5/5-7/8). This is the most beautiful part of the year, peaking in the early summer, when sun sets for hours and never really disappears, only to turn into sunrise on the other side of midnight.
Some of you might recall my short series of images which I shared last year, documenting this enticing phenomenon in yet another installment of my progressive photography.
The culmination of this time of twilight occurs on Midsummer Night at the end of June; thus the countdown to this enchanted night has begun.

Below a collection of April and May sunsets, as seen from my windows. It might be of interest to note the visible difference of the position of the setting sun on the top left and the bottom right picture; the pictures are taken only ten days apart.

(Please click to enlarge).

Fire And Ice.

This is the time of candles. I light them every day, in multitude of candle holders, through out my house and even outside. My favorite ones are almost all made for tealights. I like these for many reasons, but mostly as tealights in Scandinavia are very popular and readily available. They are very safe, or as safe as a candle alight can be and can burn for many hours, without having to be constantly watched. We have many different kinds, any that can burn for four hours all the way up to eight hours. The eight hours ones are very much in use in the winter when the evenings are dark and the nights very long.

I have many candle holders that are my favorite, but the oldest one is the most beautiful by far. It is called "Snowball" and is made by the Swedish glasswork company called Kosta Boda. It is suppose to imitate a ball made of snow, or rather ice and it certainly looks that way. Particularly when a lit candle is placed within, it looks like fire within ice. I love the light it spreads and I love the originality of the design, that is so very Scandinavian in its elegance.

It was the first candle holder ever to hold a lit candle when I moved away from home. It has been with me everywhere and have been in use in every home I ever lived in.

Scandinavian Sky.

I love to watch the sky here in Scandinavia, as it is never the same. The sky, just like the sea in which it is reflected, is moody and changes its colour from season to season, even from one day to another.

On a winter day, it is milky white, fading to grey. It can look this way for days, weeks and even months at a time. Heavy clouds make the sky feel low and menacing, intrusive and oppressive at times.
But once the sun returns in spring, the sky changes as if by magic. Upon a clear summer day, the zenith is always baby blue. Almost transparent, it never reaches the deep blue color of the tropics. Frequently covered by white, light clouds, which are almost never stationary. They move fast with the wind, sometimes they gather in a spot, then dissipate fast as if they never were there in the first place.

There is something inadvertently tranquil in watching a summer sky. Every time I do, I recall a scene from the movie "Girl with a Pearl Earring", where the object of Vermeer's affection and his model for the famous painting, is asked to define the colour of the sky. She is quick to say "blue", but upon a moment of contemplation she realizes that is not correct. Nothing around us have one single colour, but is a plethora of nuances, of light and dark tint, creating shades and reflections. Making everything seems alive.

Such is the Scandinavian sky.

Tranquility By The Sea.

I was born under the Tatra Mountains in the heart of Europe. Therefore, during my childhood, the sight of a large body of water was an unusual one.

The word "sea" brought at all times exotic pictures of far away lands to my mind. We did travel to the Mediterranean when I was small, or rather to the Adriatic Sea. The most intense moment of all, on those trips, was when we drove around the final bend and could feast our eyes on the endless alloy of sapphire blue and emerald green waters of the warm, tropical sea, lined only by the misty horizon.

Upon our immigration to Sweden, the sight of the ocean became a common one. We lived in a port city on the west shores of the Baltic Sea. This ocean has very little resemblance with the calm waters of the Mediterranean; at times azure blue, it is pristine, but wild and free. Predominantly the colour of steel, it invokes respect and awe. We lived in close proximity of a strait and I could hear fog horns late in the night, when I sat hunched over school books, or early in the morning, when the whole city lay still.

When I lived inland in North Carolina, I missed the sea. After a decade of seeing it almost every day, I found the endless land oppressive and I longed for the carefree feeling, which gazing at the open waters will offer at all times.

I love everything about the ocean; I love the fact that it is different every single day. Its colours and moods change with the seasons and even with the weather. The clarity of the air above and around it varies as well, offering almost a mirage-like sight of rocky islands and freighter ships, which seem to be almost within a reach on a clear day, just to become invisible when enveloped by heavy mist or fog on the next.
Still, even now, I take the longer drive to work, only to be able to see the ocean every day.

This past Sunday, I took a walk on a nearby beach with my parents. I do visit this particular spot frequently, mostly during the summer months. However, I have rarely seen the ocean of the colour captured on the pictures and the movie clip below. The clouds in the sky gave the sea an almost tropical feel. The beach was deserted and tranquil, as if secluded in a lonely bay, on a forgotten island in the tropics. The lack of easterly winds made the waters lay still, with an occasional wave hitting the shore, creating a harmony in sound and sight.

It was one of these rare, memorable experiences - all I wanted was for that moment in time to last forever.

Magma Stone.

I am really having a difficult time accepting that we are loosing light. Every passing day gets shorter, loosing more minutes to the night. It is unbelievable that already now we get one hour less daylight than a month ago.

However, that is the yearly cycle up here in Scandinavia and a natural way of things. I guess I am feeling the loss a bit more intensely this year, due to the absolutely horrid weather we are having. July has been terrible weatherwise; a total disappointment. We have received a lot of rain lately. Too much at this point and my flowers are not happy anymore. They need water but they also need the vital sunlight; without it they look sad and lifeless. They loose colour and become soggy and slowly wither away. Or rot away would be a better description.

There is one positive factor though, which makes up for the dark and rain. The early evenings bring back the candle light.
Yes, I love candles and I burn through hundreds of them in the winter season. In the summer most of them are forgotten in drawers and cabinets, but slowly, the need for them starts to return.

Yesterday evening I lit for the first time in several months a few candles here and there around the house. Among others, my "Magma Stone". A very unusual and so very intriguing candleholder, which I received from the students in the lab, when I turned forty a few years ago. A lovely gift and frequently in use in my white house on the hill.
Strikingly Scandinavian, its design is rugged and pristine, carved in a form of hollow lava stone, made out of dark clay with coloured (orange or yellow) inside. When the candle is placed inside the stone and lit, the stone resembles magma.

I have placed it high up in my kitchen, which is open and connected to my living room. When it gets dark, the stone glows orange and spreads a warm, almost magical light.

A Taste Of The Tropics.

Scandinavian summers are short and elusive. This far up north, we live for the sunshine and can be found frolicing in it as soon as the first rays shine down on us in the early spring.

The climate here can be described as one long autumn season. The Gulf Stream keeps the climate temperate and very even and stable throughout the year. The winters are long, dark, windy but relatively mild and the summers are short, rainy, full of light but cold.
However, once in a while exceptions will defy the rule. In the winter, we can get hit by heavy snowstorms, which can cause traffic havoc and will confine us in our homes. Likewise, comes July, there can be weeks - and if we are lucky - months of very warm weather, once the wind blows from the right direction bringing hot and dry air and allowing the high pressure settle in over Scandinavia.
Such is the weather right at this moment. The air is still and hot, the sun is strong and everything is vibrant and alive. People as well. It is amazing what a change in the mental state of the mind good weather can bring. Combined with the light nights, this is the summer of my dreams. The only cloud on my blue skies is the realization that it is Sunday and I have to go back to work tomorrow; how unfair life can be at times. Additionally, this heat makes me lazy and at this point some of my plants are in need of trimming and pruning. As I sit on my terrace in the shade of the perfumed Honeysuckle and Jasmine writing this, I am already making excuses for why the gardening can wait until perhaps next week.

I also know, that in the evening my house will turn into a furnace, due to the large windows facing west. They act as the glass of a green house and comes evening, the temperatures inside rises at times to about 40C (104F), making it feel like a desert. Air-condition systems are not common in Denmark and the only relief is to open all the windows, hoping for a draft. However, I do not mind. While I sit inside in the early part of the night, and sweat profusely watching yet another magnificent sunset, I savor every minute, as I know that in a few months, this will all be a distant dream. I will be sitting in the same spot, submerged in darkness, covered with five blankets (at least) still freezing, while watching the cold city lights below.

Now back to my weekly clematis updates. Changes are less obvious with each week as the plant is now growing less and all its energy is spend on forming flowers. There are plenty of buds at this point, so lets hope they will all turn into lovely blue flowers in a few weeks. The honeysuckle is also unusually rich and majestic this year, hiding most of the clematis at this point.

As the changes are less pronounced, I decided to post a picture of the same spot as it looked some months ago, just to illustrate the big change the summer season brings each year.

Meteorite.

Considering it is the a year of Astronomy, I find it quiet amusing that apparently a meteorite crashed into the Baltic Sea this past Saturday evening, about 300km (190 miles) southeast of where I live. The falling celestial object was seen by many witnesses, as it burned up on it's way through the atmosphere. Even video footage exists of this event, as the one below, taken in Southern Sweden.

Happy Continuation.

In Sweden, the days between the 27th December and New Years Eve are called the "in between days". Everyone there knows this term. The stores are open starting today with the "in between days sales", where all the Christmas merchandise and likewise the winter clothes collections is being sold to incredible prices. This also means the return and exchange of the Christmas gifts. It is also common to be greeting friends and acquaintances with a "Happy Continuation" greeting, which is used from now on until mid January. The meaning until New Years Eve is a wish of a good continuation of the Christmas Holidays, while after New Years it means simply "Happy New Year".


In Denmark though the greeting is not a custom at all. The big sales in stores start first after New Year and no one talks about "the in between days". Although the two countries lie in close proximity, their customs differ slightly.

My Christmas was spend in my house with very good old friends of mine, where the culinary traditions of Denmark and Slovakia were mixed. Weather vise, this Christmas was again "green", no snow to speak off at all. Christmas Eve was though sunny and clear and yesterday was one of the most beautiful winter days on record. Sunny, clear and bitterly cold. However completely wind still. We took a drive in the north part of the country, visiting an unusual peninsula. A strip of land stretching out into the sea, with wide, rocky beaches. A favorite spot for many locals, with a still functioning Lighthouse offered a breathtaking view of a very early, afternoon winter sunset over a turquoise coloured sea, which I managed to capture on film (please click on images to enlarge). Days like this one remind me how much I like the rugged, pristine and pure beauty of the north and reinforce my love for Scandinavian nature.
Happy Continuation Everyone!;)

"The Day Before The Dipping Day".

When I was growing up in Sweden, the last day before Christmas Eve had a special and somewhat strange name. The 23d of December was called "Dan Före Dopparedan". Dopparedan is a shortage for Dopparedagen, which in translation means "Dipping Day". When the two other words; "Dan Före" are added, the meaning becomes "The Day Before The Dipping Day". Ok, so what is this dipping business all about? "Dipping" in this case is referring to a meal called "dopp i grytan" (transl: dip in the cooking pot), which was served on the 24th of December, on the evening of Christmas Eve, in the old times in Sweden. The left over broth from the cooking of the Christmas ham or sausages was reduced and spiced up, transferred to a big bowl and placed in the middle of the table. It was then served with soft bread, which was dipped into the spicy soup in the bowl. This is an old Swedish tradition, but I do not think it is very common to serve this meal anymore. However, the name is still widely used, especially describing the 23d of December in Sweden.
In many Scandinavian countries today is also called "Little Christmas Eve". Often a private Christmas is celebrated on this day by couples, with or without children, that are to spend Christmas Eve with their parents, grandparents of others members of their close or extended family.
Merry Little Christmas Eve to everyone in Scandinavia.