Winter. Darkness. Snow. Colour. Light. | Kaija Savinainen Mountain
Winter, darkness, snow, colour, and light- It inhabits my senses, it is a source of my vision.
I have always known Winter. She, a faithful and constant friend, is never far away. From my Finnish roots I have inherited a deep love and respect for Winter. The land sleeps. She rests, blanketed, draped in soft white coverings. Animals rest, slumbering a deep winters sleep. Many winged creatures leave or migrate when the darkness and cold of winter sets in. I miss them but know that winter’s end will see them return.
Ravens’ Ridge
I celebrate the full depths of winter and rejoice in her power, her quietness after the storm, her cleansing of the forests and land. The colour, the light of winter is magic, empowering. Pure, pure magic. Not a day passes that I do not notice the beauty presented. My soul is rejuvenated, revitalized. Winter teases me with her colours painted across the landscape. She leaves me spell-bound, almost breathless with anticipation. She leaves nothing untouched. Rhythm, movement, line, colour - oh - the glorious colour to behold. Don’t look away. See, observe, witness, inhale, drink in her offerings. Live it, feel it, breath it, embrace her. Do not hide from her. Feel her coolness. Revel in the light as presented when the sun dances across a snow-covered landscape. Witness the moonlight silently playing over a snowy land. See the deep, dark shadows cast their magic and mystery. Look to the northern sky as it shimmers and sparkles. Find the Foxfires dancing on the horizon. Hear the crunch of snow as you lightly tread upon her blanket. Feel the winter wind on your face when she howls in protest telling her story. Do not hide from Winter. Instead witness her beauty, respect her strength and draw from her power.
Somewhere, somehow this has become my mantra for understanding, embracing Winter. Every walk, every run, each time I have skied, I feel this presence penetrate to the depths of my soul, deep into my bones. I paint my understanding of Winter, her essence of what makes her what she is. I have been lucky to have found different views and experiences of Winter over my lifetime from Finland, Sweden, Thunder Bay, Alberta, Ottawa Valley and Yellowknife, N.W.T. In all these places she presented a different face.
I found in Yellowknife a stark beauty not experienced in the south (as the rest of Canada is known). There, the light is bright, brilliant, bolder and more powerful. I am in awe of her yet again. I have attempted in my Northern paintings to capture this essence, this mystery, this presence, with no pretense, no prettiness. Only the raw beauty of a northern winter.
Ravens’ Watch
I recount here an experience that left a deep impression on me.
Last winter during the Frost Bite 50 km Race, I was at the early stages of my marathon ski. From a thick scrubby forested area, I rounded a bend entering onto a frozen lake. A point of land stood before me. The tall scraggly spruce trees that inhabit this bit of Canadian shield were sparsely dressed in snowy elegance. The magnificence of this vision was breathtaking. The light was intense, the colours were brilliant blues, teals, deep purples, mauves, and greens. The rugged landscape rose to greet me. I stood rooted to the snowy landscape. I felt myself at home, embraced by her presence. As I continued my long ski towards the finish line, I was greeted time and time again with a landscape so sublime.
Winter Path
Did I finish the race? Yes, it was a long hard slog especially the last 6 km along an open rough windblown trail. At each push and glide, I sank deep into the snowy trail. Finnish Sisu (courage, perseverance) I summonsed forth, don’t fail me now I thought. I stubbornly skied onward. I recalled granddad -a ski soldier during the brutal Finland-Soviet Winter and Continuation Wars that hugely impacted my family - facing immensely more challenging conditions in the fight for independence. Traveling at night, in the bitter cold of -40 below, being pursued or chasing the enemy, he and his son Pauli survived 4,000 km of reconnaissance work (1939-1944) in Finland’s forests of Karjala and Russian Karelia. I have learned through family lore that they skied with full backpacks, armaments, and much courage. No such thing as me giving up! Yep, no I was not going to stop now.
Winter Shadow on Latham
My final descent up from Back Bay on Great Slave Lake proved to be an agonizing, difficult climb over ice-covered trails. Slip, slide, crunch, push, climb, pant, curse very loudly to self in Finnish. Herringbone trudge was the only technique that worked for that stretch. I stubbornly pushed on, climbing slowly over the crest of the hill ever so close to the finish line. One more long downhill along the back of the route and then the final uphill climb to the finish line. OMG, the backpack I had carried for 25 km was proving heavy. So heavy! I was soaked to the skin from my efforts, my legs were shaking with exhaustion and my brain was asking why repeatedly do I do this? No answer. No energy think or reason. Then, I heard my daughter Lara cheering heartily “Come on, Mom you can do this, almost there, push, glide, push”. And so I did, across the finish line I skied, spent but happy. In quiet reflection after some food and drink, I realized the magic of the land in Winter lives on. We just have to get out – hard as it may be at times- and embrace what Winter gives to us.