When Life Feels Stuck – a Nordic Life in Slow Motion+ VIDEO + KNITTING PATTERN
May in Northern Finland. It’s an interesting time, that’s for sure. I often say, if you ever want to visit the North—Lapland—without the crowds, come in May. Nearly all restaurants, shops, and services are closed. The travelers are gone (the North follows the rhythm of the tourist season, which runs from November to April), and the village streets, fells, and ski resorts are deserted. In May, this land feels truly empty.
In May, life seems to come to a halt in the North. Elsewhere—southern Finland, or the rest of the world—spring is rushing in. Birds return, lakes thaw, and forest floors burst into bloom. But here, that season delays its arrival. Sometimes agonizingly so.
I’ll admit, May is not my favorite time here. Not just because of the waiting for spring, but mostly because of the light. It increases so rapidly that the human mind—slow to adapt to natural changes—just can’t seem to keep up.
The light is incredibly bright. I might even call it blindingly bright. The snow, still lingering in patches, reflects it even more intensely. It’s as if someone suddenly switched on all the lights in the world—at once.
The midnight sun is almost here. That means we lose the moonlight, the northern lights, and the stars completely for the summer. For photographers, even the soft golden light of sunrise or sunset becomes rare—you have to hunt for it in the small hours of the night if you want to catch it. I do start to miss the night. And the dark.
But just so we don’t sink too deep into gloomy thoughts—there’s another side to this season too (there always is, isn’t there?). The warmth of the sun on your skin feels unbelievably good after the sting of winter winds and frost. The melodic songs of the first migratory birds fill the spring mornings and evenings, and I’m always amazed how I manage to forget, year after year, just how wonderful it sounds when the forest comes alive again after winter’s silence.
I am looking forward to summer. More and more, it seems, with each passing year—which surprises me, as someone who has always considered themselves a true winter person. Maybe winter is just long enough here that sometimes, it’s good to take a break from it. A little change does good, as they say.
We’ve already started waiting for summer. In May, we might still get several more inches of snow outside, but inside, the garden is already waking up. Tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers are growing on the kitchen table, quietly defying the late-winter blizzards with only a couple layers of glass to protect them. Pretty brave, really.
During this time of waiting—and maybe feeling a bit stuck—I’ve been knitting more than ever (if that’s even possible, ha). Lately, I’ve mostly been working on patterns and motifs I’ve come up with myself. Designing them is surprisingly addictive and incredibly fun!
I’ve built up a nice little collection of my own designs, though turning them into actual written patterns is a whole different form of art. Or maybe not so much an art as it is… math. And unfortunately, math is by far my weakest skill. It doesn’t even make the list of things I pretend to be good at. Haha.
That’s why I often (almost always) end up ripping out my knitting at least three times (especially sweaters—sigh) because of some silly counting or logic mistake. But that’s how you learn, right? And honestly, it’s part of the fun. For the first time in my life, I’ve even gotten into using Excel spreadsheets. And, hesitantly and a little sheepishly, I have to admit—it’s actually a pretty handy tool.
I recently published a new sock pattern: Arctic Bloom Socks. It was inspired by this strange northern springtime—when nature tries to bloom, only to be met with more snow and ice.
"Arctic flowers are resilient survivors – they bloom amidst snowfall and endure biting night frosts. Their strength and beauty in the face of cold hardship inspired these socks. Like the flowers themselves, the socks are a blend of warmth and durability."
The Arctic Flowers socks are knit from the cuff down, featuring a traditional heel flap with reinforced stitching for extra durability. Up here, where winter is long and snowy, wool socks get a lot of wear—so they need to last. I recommend using loocal wool sock yarn for strength and sustainability.
I used Vuonue’s Pentti sock yarn, leftover from my previous pattern, the Flakes of Snow socks. Pentti has the most beautiful colors and feel—I’m completely sold on it. The rosy pink yarn is Tukuwool Sock. Both Pentti and Tukuwool Sock are made entirely in Finland from Finnish wool.
Find the Arctic Flowers sock pattern available for purchase below:
Or if you'd like to purchase the sock pattern through Ravelry, you can do so here: https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/arctic-bloom-socks.
In my latest video, I'll share more about this season of being stuck, show a bit of my yarn stash, some bread baking, and the early life in the forest.
Enjoy the video during a peaceful moment. :)
I try to read all the comments on my videos, but I just can't keep up with all of them—they come in so fast. One comment from this video, however, stuck with me because it was so cleverly written. Someone commented on my feeling of being stuck:
“You're not stuck, you're just germinating”
It was such a fitting expression and a comforting thought. Thank you for that ❤️
Wishing you a lovely time of germinating, or growing! I'll be back soon.
🖤 Sanna