
Alanna is still recovering from her cold. And I am still working long hours.
Luckily this time of the year means the sun is still high when I end my day. Good time for a gentle walk to the seashore.
When the sun is setting, between dusk and darkness, there is a moment when the light turns blue. And the world stops for a heartbeat.

Alanna is still recovering from her cold. And I am still working long hours.
Luckily this time of the year means the sun is still high when I end my day. Good time for a gentle walk to the seashore.

A squirrel has moved into a tree in our backyard. It is getting braver every day – probably as Merlin isn’t here to scare it away anymore.
I know I should probably chase it away, but it is just too cute. For now, we will live peacefully side by side.



You could assume, that after the long and dark winter, the spring inspires me to post a lot of images of flowers. You would be wrong, though. I posted a lot of images of flowers even in South Africa. The truth is that they are picturesque and they are there.
They do still inspire me.

Daffodils have always been my favorite flowers. The close second (depending on the mood) are sunflowers. Both are just so unashamedly happy.

A few kilometres from our house is a small pond that is a birdwatcher’s paradise. Several rare birds nest there and in the surrounding area, and there is a very active community alerting people to rare sightings. I am not part of it. I mostly know about it from my walks, when I occasionally stumble into clusters of people arriving by car or bicycle, or nearly running, binoculars in hand, asking breathlessly if they have “missed it yet.”
As it was a beautiful day, I cycled to the pond to join tens of others trying to catch a photo of a bird. I just wanted a pretty picture, so I would have been quite happy with a duck. Instead, I found this Eurasian coot building a nest. Although common in Europe, the Finnish population is critically endangered.
So, am I a birdwatcher now?


Despite my grumpiness about the spring and rain… summer is coming.

Is there anything more over-romatisized than spring? Maybe Paris. Or worse: spring in Paris.
Maybe in warmer climates spring bursts in to flower the moment winter ends, bringing sunshine, birdsong and love. But not in Finland.
After 6 months under snow, there is not a lot colour in Finnish nature in early spring. The frozen ground needs time to thaw before anything green dares to show up. It’s wet and brown. It is a challenge to find much beauty anywhere.
Those warm, sunny moments can be glorious, though. Finns peel off their winter jackets and run out with the first signs of milder weather – enthusiastic for light and already waiting for summer to begin.
In other words, the best thing about Finnish spring is its proximity to summer.



Our house is in a nice suburb just next to the seashore and several small forests. Therefore, there are nice walking, cycling, and adventuring routes all around us.
Now it just needs to stop raining.

Appearance of willow catkins (pajunkissa) is a sure sign of spring – although the whole reason the catkins have “fur” is to protect the flowers from the cold.
In Finland, there is a tradition of collecting willow branches before Palm Sunday, decorating them and having kids go around the neighborhood to exchange the branches for candiy. It’s a Finnish version of “trick-or-treating”.
Or, actually, you should say that trick-or-treat is American-style virpominen. After all, the Finnish tradition has been around for hundreds of years.

It’s been several weeks of above 0°C temperatures, and the snow is gone – except for the random piles covered in sand and pebbles that typically only melt at around midsummer (or at least it feels that way) and the sea ice. Plenty of ice left.
The sun was shining brightly and the neighborhood forest felt like spring. It is still early in the year and the nature seems unsure whether it can trust the warmth. There are no early flowers or green shoots in the trees yet. The first shoots of grass are rising from the forest moss.

