The arctic winter has finally arrived, with temperatures dropping to -25°C, the sea freezing over and a sprinkling of ice covering everything. Days are very short, the sun barely rising above the horizon, and nights clear and starry – the council is saving by switching off the streetlights at midnight during week nights. I sneak out most nights and stand on the verandah, looking at the constellations until my toes are freezing. Sauna every night.
I seem to take the same photos every year – five years from now there will no boats left to photograph as they have fallen apart after years of abandonment though, and as the land rises faster than the sea level, the marina – already barely used – will have turned into mud. My mother swam here as a child, and so did I, but already the water is too shallow for anyone but dogs.
Those puppies were not too impressed by the slippery ice creaking and cracking under their paws. The temperature has gone from -25°C to -11° to -19° in about 36 hours, freezing any humidity out of the air and onto any and every surface, turning otherwise unremarkable or even ugly things into intricate, sparkling beauties.