
My office is in the centre of Helsinki. In winter, the streets nearby are usually quiet when I leave in the evenings. But put an ice rink there, and suddenly not even –12°C keeps kids (big or small) from appearing in hordes.
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.

The first time Stuart visited Finland was for Christmas 2010. It was an exceptional December. Over one metre of snow blanketed Helsinki, and the city was running out of places to plough it. Parking lots and walkways disappeared under snow mountains in an attempt to keep the streets clear. The temperature dropped below –27°C the day before Christmas Eve in Asikkala, where we were spending the holidays.
Everyone kept saying how rare that winter was, but I don’t think Stuart truly understood it until we moved here. The past four winters have shown how much muddier a typical coastal winter is. Because of the sea, day temperatures rise above 0°C on more than half (sometimes two-thirds) of days in January and February. Snow melts, turns slushy and heavy, mixes with sand and dirt, and becomes cold mud. Not exactly postcard-perfect winter scenery – at least not before the next snowfall briefly covers it all again.
Therefore, even with numb fingers, a frozen-solid car, and limited time outdoors, I love these crisp, sunny, beautiful winter days. You can see the cold in the air and the way light reflects.
–10°C would be perfectly fine, though. –20°C is pushing it.
