On Sunday night, I found myself waiting for my seventeen-year-old grandson to arrive. He was making his own way from home to our place, travelling more than one hundred kilometres from door to door. I had a warm meal prepared, the house felt soft and welcoming, and yet I could not settle. I paced the…
Category: Finland
The Stories We Keep
There is something about flour on the bench and the smell of cardamom and cinnamon in the air that loosens old stories. When I bake with my granddaughter in my kitchen, I notice that I begin again.The same stories. The same tone. Often the same hand gestures. I tell her about my grandmother’s kitchen —…
Stay, I Pray You
Last night I went to the theatre to see a live production of Anastasia, and from the moment it began, I felt myself being drawn into it completely. The costumes were exquisite, the music beautiful, the whole production tender and deeply moving. It was one of those rare performances where everything seemed to work together…
Forever in My Heart
On your day of independence, my beautiful Finland, my heart always returns to you. It returns with pride, but also with tenderness. Because freedom is never just a word when you know what it cost. It is never only celebration when so much was endured for it. Your independence was paid for in courage, in…
Raindrops Keep Falling
In Finland, we have a word for resilience — sisu. It means the kind of grit that carries you through when willpower alone isn’t enough. I like to think I have a fair bit of it, but yesterday morning, as I woke to the sound of rain tapping against the windows, I began to wonder….
Nordic Living
I’m sitting here with a mug of tea in hand, simply contemplating life. The steam curls upward, carrying with it a quiet reminder that even the smallest rituals can anchor us. Today was a day off, and though I haven’t done anything particularly noteworthy, I’ve been reminding myself that sometimes the most productive thing we…
The Silent Clock
Where do the years go? They slip through our hands so quietly, and yet they do not disappear. They live on within us, just beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest thing to bring them back. A scent. A sound. A glimpse of light. And suddenly, time folds in on itself. Sometimes it is the…
A Bird with Two Homes
Some journeys are so vast they seem almost impossible, and yet they happen quietly, without fanfare, written into the lives of those who simply keep moving between one world and another. That was what came to mind when I read about the small migratory birds that leave the Arctic coasts and the Nordic tundra each…
Storyteller
My phone flashes the warning again: Storage almost full. Again. I take a lot of photos. Not for an audience. Not to curate a flawless life. I take them to gather crumbs — breadcrumbs scattered through the forest of my days. Each image a small, shining proof that I noticed. That I felt. That I…
Miss You Most
When the lilacs begin to bloom and the forest floor turns into a sea of white lily of the valley, that is when I miss you most of all. The air grows heavy with perfume, drifting through my memories like mist through birch trees — soft and persistent, quietly calling me back. When your nights…
Apples of Gold 