Dank.
Gloomy.
Fishermen huddling around their lights in the mizzle.
February has a habit of luring us into a false hope.
The endless month of January finally behind us.
The first daffodils making their appearance.
February draws us in with a promise of spring, and hope, and warmer days
And yet….
Grey
Cold
Miserable
Bitter to the core
The biting wind nips at your ears and nose, trying to get into any crevice of clothing
And yet - amongst the bitterness, this final outlaying of real winter - there is hope
A beacon in the drudge.
The sturdy wood of the sauna. Battling it out against the winds.
The reassuring chug of the fire.
The comforting thickness of the felted hats.
Those that hold fast through all edges of winter in their tightly made sauna groups form a certain bond. As if they have really been through something.
They have seen the darkest of winter evenings together, and now the lighter ones are ahead.
The steady, weekly rhythm of the sauna providing that milestone to get people through their weeks chores.
A beacon.
Of light.
And warmth.
And hope.
That spring is on it’s way.
And when it does arrive, it will be all the sweeter for the cold.
- Charlie