A House Called Nut - Life in the backwoods of Finland

A November morning

Thank you very much for your get well wishes! Between travel and flu attacks, I feel like I've been living in some sort of bizarre time warp for the past month or so, and am really looking forward to a good dose of normal. There's been one happy modification to the definition of 'normal' around here. While I was busy sneezing in another time in a far away galaxy, great changes took place in our backyard and I'm happy to announce that water, hot and cold, once again flows from our taps. Hooray! After four months without running water, it became apparent that the well wasn't sufficient for much of the year, and we now have a clever lake water filtration system. So not only can I now breathe through my nose, I can shower too. Now that's the life.

As I was pondering these strokes of luck on Saturday, I gazed out to the window and found that a new landscape had been painted. The lake is never static and never, ever dull.

There were two curious lumps of snow resting on the ice, which turned out to be a pair of migrating whopper swans. I crunched my way over to them on the frozen ground too excitedly, and they hurried  along on their southward journey.

Some little dogs were happy about the fresh sheet of ice too. The lake in the summer is a menacing place for certain furry creatures, but in the winter it's nothing but a vast playing field. (Not to worry, he's standing near the shore over shallow water.)

The temperature has risen again and all the traces of ice have vanished. This swelling, freezing, and frosting with brief, warm intervals will continue for a little while still. Then the lake will be covered in thick ice and snow and our winter adventures will begin!

Moonbeams

In this blackest and gloomiest of times, it's easy to take for granted some of the wonders we're denied in the celebrated summer months. Like deep, dark skies, bright stars, and penetrating moonlight on a clear, autumn night.

Last week, deadlines and valiant attempts to fit way too much in a day found Janne and me both still awake in the wee hours of a weeknight. Isn't it funny how astral wonders like shooting stars always come at these rather mundane moments? We were exhausted, very ready for bed, and not at all in a romantic, stargazing mood, but who could ignore a sight like this?

Happy weekend to you all from cold, dark Finland! It ain't all bad. I've been on the road and away from internet access this week, but I'll be back next week with some enticing wool accessories and other handmade goodness. Until next time!

Holiday: The Last Chapter

For the final leg of our trip, we went to a cabin in Koli National Park. Now, it might seem strange of us to vacation in a cabin in the woods when we already live in a cabin in the woods, but there are some crucial differences between this cabin and our home. Such as work. Our house, probably like most people's and definitely like all self-employed people's, is full of work. Work, work, work. I think Janne and I enjoy the bulk of it, but sometimes it's good to escape to cabins that aren't full of unfinished projects and to-do lists. There was one more important difference between our home and the rental cabin (and I don't mean running water, though it was very nice to take a hot shower): Icelandic horses! Hmm, I thought there was something missing here.

We arrived, threw our bags in a corner, and went on a ride through the forested foothills of the park. It was so nice. As always, I got the horse that liked to stop for meals and bathroom breaks and wander lazily off the path, but then again it could just be that I have no idea how to control horses. We did the special tölt that only Icelandic horses do, enjoyed the fall scenery, and felt very tall for a couple of hours.

Then it was time for sauna, dinner, and lots of relaxation because the next day was reserved for mountain biking. Until we woke up and discovered our fall holiday had turned into a winter holiday:

Thankfully, years of living in this country have taught me never to be without extra layers, mittens, and woolly hats. So we ventured out in the driving snow and sleet and even managed to do a bit of mushroom picking.

And there's always a cozy fireside to return to.

There were other delightful things too like a weasel in a bush and a moose in the woods, long talks, surprise presents, brilliantly red boathouses, pretty old ships, and funny characters along the way. It was a good trip.

Work cycles

It's cold, it's dark and it will get colder and darker still. There's a lot to do before winter returns and frosts the landscape, and each day of outdoor work feels like a race against time, against the setting sun and approaching cold. Constant variation in temperature and light sweepingly change our surroundings each season, sometimes even from week to week, and also dictate the content of a day's labor.

This is fall, the end of the harvest season, time to prepare for winter and the spring that will follow behind it.

There are gutters to clean.

Endless leaves to rake, always with the assistance of a small dog.

Bulbs to plant with warm thoughts of spring.

And those wonderful winter flowers. Heather, two kinds.

What's your seasonal work?

A complicated relationship

I love leaves. They make me dance.

They make me fly!

Sometimes they make me angry.

Oh, leaves. Why do you treat me this way?

Give me leaves!

First autumn in Pähkinä

Bilberries

Fall-colored dog

View of Pähkinä from the lake

From the other side

A wild currant bush on of the lake's little islands

Good things are happening. It's been raining, and in the best possible way. Huge downpours that give way to gorgeous, sunny days. We even got a trickle of water from the faucet, and I'm hanging onto hope that the well will make a swift recovery. Another wish was granted, and cold weather has swept through, ushering out the mooseflies and leaving the forest a welcoming haven once more. 

Over the weekend, we paddled in the rowboat to the opposite shore and oohed and aahed at the fall landscape. I can't believe how soon the lake will be frozen and boat rides will have to cease. I can't believe how completely different each season is and how distant summer already seems.

Here are some photos from our little boat excursion.

Every now and then we see hot air balloons over the lake. I wonder where they're headed. 

This hungry woodpecker was lodging a pine cone into a notch in an old tree and then hammering away. You can see the pine cone in the second image.

View from the opposite shore.

Now I'm off to prepare for a mini holiday we're taking. Details to follow. I'll just say I'm very, very excited! There will be a couple of blog posts in the meantime, but I'll mostly be away from the computer, so please excuse me if I'm slow responding to comments and emails. Colorful, autumn wishes to you!

Wishing on the equinox

Autumn craft supplies from nature

Fall leaves, always magical.

Is it really here? Could summer have left us already? I'll admit to some summer nostalgia brought on by the numb limbs that come with September swims in Finnish lakes, but this year I'm happier than ever to welcome my favorite season.

Usually, I have three simple wishes for the fall: abundant mushrooms in the forest, as many sunny days as Mother Nature can spare, and just a bit of balmy weather. It's counter-productive, wishful thinking most years, since the Finnish fall is all about wet and cold, though the fungus usually delivers. But this year I've amended my fall wish list: abundant mushrooms in the forest (ok, that one's the same), rain (lots), cold (bitter). The rain and cold, you see, will deliver the residents of this cottage from two small afflictions.

Janne and I recently watched a movie in which a girl flicked on a bathroom faucet and (ta-da) water came out. Pretty pedestrian, right? Not around here. In unison we gasped "water!" You see, we do what that girl does. We do it every single day in hopes that even the smallest trickle will come out, but, alas, the well is still dry. I'm not sure what it was about that faucet scene (I mean, we've both ventured into the outside world of running water in these two months), but ooh was it exciting. So, rain. Rain! Please come. Pour down. Fill up our well. Bring me hot showers and I promise I'll never complain about doing dishes and laundry again!

Now, the cold serves another purpose entirely and is intimately connected to another item on the list, mushrooms. In these parts, gatherer instincts surface in the fall, when the forest undergoes an enchanting, edible fungal blossoming. This year's foraging has been rudely interrupted by the deer keds (or "mooseflies" as they're called in Finnglish) that are congregating in our local forest. Here's what they look like in case you're wondering. Ah, mooseflies. Not even tightly wound headscarves worn under hoods so snug that only eyes and nose remain uncovered will keep them out of my hair. If I had no hair, or less hair, I might mind them less. But icky, hair-burrowing, egg-laying, biting flies are more than this girl can take. Mooseflies, happily, are very sensitive to cold and one good frost is all that's needed for the forest to be hospitable once more. In the meantime, there are lingonberries ripening and mushrooms sprouting and I'm longin' to go a-pickin'.

At least the apples are still keeping us busy!

Do you have any special wishes for the new season?

Windfalls

Pruning the apple trees in the spring turned out to be a good idea, because, wow, do we have a lot of apples. Last week was brimming with good, apple pickin' intentions, but I'm sure you know what can happen to good intentions. And those stubborn apples continue to ripen with total disregard for our schedules and deadlines. The nerve. Until I finally make it up the ladder to do some real harvesting, the windfalls are keeping me on my toes (or crouching on the ground, more like).

So far Janne and I (and lucky, apple-loving visitors) have enjoyed apple pie, apple cake, pumpkin and apple soup, and apple juice--all from windfalls. The apple juice rescued us when we realized there were three buckets of apples in the dining room and something had to be done. Enter the steam juicer.

Now, steam juicers are quite an ordinary appliance in Finland, but since I've yet to come across them elsewhere I'm not sure how common they really are. The beauty of a steam juicer is that there's little or no prep involved. We quartered the apples before placing them--skin, seeds, bruises and all--into the juicer to speed up the process and hopefully extract more juice, but we could have just as easily thrown them in whole.

Apples go in.

Juice comes out.

I made one fresh, unflavored batch to enjoy now, threw some cloves and a cinnamon stick into the steamer with the remaining batches and canned them for later. It's delicious. Thank you, steam juicer. The cooking process took the better part of the day, but only demanded our attention for a few minutes here and there. So now we have five quarts of spiced apple juice and probably a fresh bucket of windfalls playing hide and seek. Can you guess what we're doing this weekend?

Hello September

I think it’s now safe to say goodbye to summer and to welcome in the new season. Light and temperature change so rapidly in this country that I always feel like I’m adjusting. These days the sun sets “so early” at 8:30, and often by the time I get round to an evening dip in the lake (yes, still swimming!) it’s already dark and cold, and no longer seems like such a fantastic idea. Each season comes with its own joys. In these next few months we’ll enjoy migrating geese, apples, plums, three more months of mushrooms, and the forest’s most colorful performance. Daylight will grow scarce and we’ll spend more time inside with books and projects, pen and paper, and eventually we’ll hope for some real snow and cold to brighten the scene. Once all the leaves have fallen, the landscape will open up and the forest will release this little house from its tight embrace.

The bird cherry tree is leading the march towards fall in our garden.

Rowanberries are another seasonal joy. My friend Helen, partner in cooking and eating well, told me about a crabapple-rowan jelly she’d made and I’m vaguely considering following suit. Do you cook with rowanberries? What do you make?

Until that’s decided, these berries, now drying in a sunny window, are destined for some creative projects. I’ve seen some inventive use of the berries as beads by Swedish Etsy seller Birribe (see here and here), and would like to have a go myself. I have no idea if drying the berries in a windowsill will work...we'll have to wait and see.

Happy September!