Summer is finally here.

It’s been cold and rainy up until now. For Midsummer, the forecast promises a high of maybe 37°F (3°C). But still—summer is here, and after a long winter, it feels wonderful.

The early summer has been surprisingly full. Not busy exactly (I dislike that overused word), but more like full of work. When the snow melts—sometimes within just a couple of days—it reveals the yard, and along with it, all the tasks blissfully forgotten over winter. Winter gear needs to be packed away—snow shovels, skis, sleds. Everything looks oddly out of place on bare ground, like artifacts from another world.

Getting the garden ready for summer takes days of labor and constant juggling with the weather. The vegetables we've been growing indoors since March need to be moved into the greenhouse as soon as possible so they have enough time to bear fruit—but not too early, or they’ll freeze. Luckily, our neighbors have lived in this village for generations, and we get to benefit from their knowledge and help.

Even though this past winter was mild and lacking in snow, it still held on until the very end of May. The ice didn’t melt off our lake until the final days of the month, and just before June arrived, we woke up to about four inches of fresh snow. Every year, the transition from winter to summer is difficult and tests our patience, but it’s also incredible to witness the changing of the seasons and nature’s awakening—right from our front row seat on the edge of the wilderness.

On May 26th, the ground was covered in a proper layer of snow one last time. Papu was not amused.

We’re having our wedding celebration this July. We actually got married back in February, but now we’ll be celebrating with a small group of loved ones at our home—hopefully outdoors, weather and temperatures permitting. Even though it will be a small and laid-back garden-style gathering, it still takes time and thoughtful preparation.

We’ve spent the early summer cleaning the house and clearing out every possible storage space. The studio (which we built in an outbuilding two summers ago) and the attic have both been fully emptied, sorted, and cleaned.

The attic, especially, was a major undertaking. It held things left behind by the previous owners, as well as all of our own I-don’t-know-where-this-goes-let’s-put-it-in-the-attic boxes from when we moved in two years ago—plus various this-should-be-sold-someday items. We cleared everything out, sorted through it (some went for sale, some to donation), and cleaned the space so it’s now usable for storage again.

There’s also a little summer room at the far end of the attic where we managed to fit a bed and a small sewing table. And somewhere in between all this cleaning and organizing… I still have a wedding dress to finish sewing.

But as is typical of life in the North, there's always room for slower moments too. I'm learning—slowly—that not everything needs to be done right now or all at once. It’s okay to let time pass, and to rest along the way. E is much better at this than I am, and it’s been wonderful to learn from a true master.

We’ve also been enjoying the (few) warm days, the snow-free forest paths, the ice-free lakes, and the magical light of the northern summer’s endless days.