Un’immagine dell’inverno che stiamo attraversando.
Tanta neve. La campagna e i boschi che si sono addormentati e che si risveglieranno quando inizierà a fare un po’ più caldo.
A poco a poco la neve si scioglierà. Il ghiaccio nel lago se ne andrà per ultimo.
Questo albero resiste. È riuscito ad infilare le sue radici tra le fessure di questa pietra che dà sul lago.
In primavera germoglieranno alcune foglie. Si godranno il sole e il vento che annuncia la nuova stagione. Le radici riprenderanno a scavare nelle fessure che hanno trovato.
Come è arrivato quest’albero su questa pietra. Chissà che cosa ha portato il seme dal quale è germogliato.
The path to the forest is covered by new snow. The steps from people who walked past have disappeared.
I make my way with the fresh snow reaching my knee. It is nice to start a new path that other people may follow until the next big snowfall.
The dog follows me. He avoids the snow in front which is too deep for him. I throw him some snowballs along the steps we have left behind. He runs in small jumps to reach where the snowball has fallen. He dives into the snow head and sniffs what is already melting.
I call him. I tell him he is a ‘good boy’. He looks up at me with approval.
We keep walking. On either side of the path the forest is silent. No wind. Not a sound when we stop walking.
Nature is asleep while it resists the winter months.
I walk the usual path in the Arboretum park lost in my thoughts. The trees on my left. The lake on my right. My dog pulls following some scents under a thin layer of snow.
I can see the bend of the path about 100 meters ahead. I see the tree that has grown diagonally and not straight up. Maybe it was due to the winds or the soft soil at the edge of the water.
i see a person coming from the other direction and walking fast to that old tree. It is close to the sunset and the day is gray. From a distance I can see it is a young person, probably a man.
He walks to the tree and sits on the snow underneath it. He is facing the lake and holds his harms around his knees.
I walked there and he sat watching the lake in the twilight.
I get closer and I am now on the path behind him. He has a certain determination, sitting and looking at the lake as if he really wanted to get to this spot to think over something.
I took this photo while walking by. When I changed it to black and white the snow seemed to change into sand. This reminded me of a warmer time of the year and warmer far away places I have been.
I lace up my trekking boots, grab my walking stick, and give a quick whistle to the dog. He’s instantly in front of me, eagerly awaiting our walk in the forest.
As we enter the tree line at the edge of the clearing, I gaze down at the uneven terrain. The path here is barely discernible. It’s cluttered with stones, tangled roots, a carpet of fallen leaves, and soft, slightly frozen moss.
I take each step deliberately, moving cautiously as I find my rhythm.
The dog races ahead, his nose glued to the ground, enthralled by some elusive scent. I catch glimpses of him through the trees, darting in and out of view, his tail wagging vigorously as he tirelessly tries to recover the scent he momentarily lost.
As we ascend the ridge, the trees begin to space out, their separation increasing with the steepening slope. With every step, we’re climbing about 200 meters. At the ridge’s peak, the view of the lake unfolds and the vista stretches into the distance.
Pyylinsaari | Finland 2023
We come to a stop, and the sun emerges from behind the clouds. I gaze upward, surrounded by a circle of swaying trees. Their leaves rustle gently in the mild breeze.
This moment offers a fresh perspective on the ever-changing forest. It’s the same familiar woodland, yet from here, it appears transformed.
I went back to the railway station in Heinävesi the other day. I had to take the 16:45 train to Pietsämäki.
We arrived at the station with plenty of time to spare. We decided to have our lunch there and enjoyed a spinach pancake while gazing at the tracks. I couldn’t help but imagine the old trains that had stopped at this station over the years. The station itself was constructed in 1940.
In my mind, I pictured steam engines pulling wooden passenger carriages. There were three classes with varying levels of comfort. The third class was always the most crowded.
After lunch, I took a walk with our dog. Walked over the tracks to look at the logs and gravel that had been brought here, possibly for track renovations.
From the opposite side of the tracks, the station looked like a simple and practical building that has endured countless winters and summers for 83 years, remaining in good condition.
At 16:20, other passengers began to arrive. They were dropped off by their relatives in cars. I stood near the stairs leading to the main entrance when an elderly woman approached me but hesitated. She seemed uncertain whether I could understand or speak Finnish, as I appeared to be a foreigner.
I greeted her with ‘terve,’ and she visibly relaxed, taking a few more steps towards me. She greeted me in return. I invited her to enter and explore the interior by saying, ‘tulee ja katso sisällä.’ Although my sentence wasn’t entirely correct, she understood my meaning. She climbed the three steps and entered what used to be the passengers’ waiting room. Her gaze wandered, I imagined, lost in memories.
She told me that she was recalling her younger days when she used to catch the train from here. She remembered buying her train ticket from the glass counter on the side of the room, gesturing towards it as if she could see herself as a young girl, requesting a return ticket from the station master.
She then turned towards the other side of the room and opened a door, revealing the furniture we had placed there. She turned to me and said, ‘tämä oli ennen postitoimisto’—this used to be the post office.
Suddenly, a whistle blew, signaling the approach of the train to Pietsämäki. It took her memories away and we walked down tot he tracks. The usual two carriages. It was midweek and so it was not very full.
I boarded the train, and the doors closed. As the train pulled away, the station building disappeared from my sight, back to the quiet embrace of the forest surrounding it.
