In Ylläs, the year is made up of eight seasons. Each has its own rhythm, its own light, its own special thing. In this series, we journey through the year one fellrich moment at a time.
After a day of cycling, I feel like going for a swim. Today is a good day to take the first dip of the summer. I change into my swimsuit, pack a towel into a canvas bag, and head to the beach. There are others here too, enjoying the summer evening. I walk straight into the lake. I don’t want to give myself time to hesitate about the cold water. I scrunch my nose as I wade deeper. It’s still quite cold, but I surrender my “winter coat” to the clear, fresh lake without resistance. I stay in the water for a moment before wading back to the shore and wrapping myself in a towel.
The sun doesn’t seem to set, even though the day is already far along. I look into it and realize that in early June, the sun’s position in Ylläs at around 8 pm corresponds roughly to 4–5 pm further south, at the latitude of Helsinki. No wonder the evening sun still warms my body.
Back at the cabin, I glance at the clock again. It’s almost nine. Surely there’s no need to go to bed yet? The sun still lights up the treetops in the yard. I decide to head a bit higher up the fell to admire the midnight sun and its magical light.
Along the way, I notice that the cloudberries are already in bloom. The blossoms look especially large this year, maybe late summer will bring a plentiful harvest. Labrador tea is just beginning to flower, and a familiar summery scent rises from the marsh. There’s something lingering in the air that’s hard to name. Maybe it’s summer or freedom?
Nature is quiet. My steps crunch along the trail, and somewhere in the distance, a cuckoo calls. It always brings the same familiar feeling: now it’s summer! The shadows grow longer, and the light takes on an ever more golden hue. Once I get going properly, there’s no sign of the day’s fatigue left in my body.
At the foot of the fell, I start climbing the trail upward. At the top, the landscape opens all around me. The lake sparkles in the sunlight, and the wind has calmed below. Someone else has realized it too: this is not a moment to sleep through. I nod in greeting.
I sit down on a rock by the trail and pull out my water bottle. At the top, there’s just the right amount of breeze, and not a single insect in sight. A stunning golden light spreads across the horizon in every direction, and the more distant fells appear beautifully hazy.
There’s no rush to be anywhere. You can sense the moisture rising from the ground after a warm day. This really is something, I think to myself. It makes me smile. This is true richness. Our incredible nature.