The north of Sweden is a tough lover. Most of the year, she is cold and silent. When spring comes and she melts a little, there’s none of your fancy flowers or lush greenery. There are pines and firs, stretching their needles towards the light. There are dry twigs and rough bark. For the longest time, there’s only grey, brown and light yellow. Last year’s grass, last year’s leaves.
But if you take the time to get to know her, she gives and gives. If you wander her woods when the sun filters through the canopy, if you stay still and watch the subtle play of light on the cold water, if you accept the austere palette and appreciate the pangs of bright colour that do exist… she will welcome you with open arms.
You just have to really look.