2025 is coming to an end. Yesterday was Lucia, and to day is the third advent before Christmas. It is cold, wet and windy. The lack of daylight is paralysing. It’s been like this for weeks, and it’s not likely to change this side of the new year. If we at least could get a sprinkling of snow and some real cold to wake us from this Nordic winter coma.

On Friday we enjoyed a Christmas dinner and a show with Anna’s colleagues. Ate too much, got home late and slept badly so on Saturday we headed to the summer house where we enjoy the peace and quiet and sleep like babies. Took a walk when the rain paused and the clouds broke open for a moment. The colours are muted, the ground is muddy, and sun lit the top of trees for a few minutes, long enough to instill hope that this will pass and the light will return again.

It’s dark by 4 pm. The cottage is warm and cosy with a fire crackling in the stove. We cooked Arctic Char in the oven and had it with white wine sauce and potatoes. Perfect after a traditional Swedish Christmas smörgasbordsbord the night before.
The wind rustles the trees, the rain smatters on the roof and we sleep like we haven’t slept for weeks.

Sunday morning we are reminded that the world is a deeply troubled place with a mass shooting in Sydney. People killing people motivated by belief in religious righteousness, dogma, racism, hate and obsession with revenge. We’re a primitive species unable to control our basic instincts.