Estonia's Dark Magic

Three ways to find light when there is none

When we moved to Estonia this past June and rolled right into the peak of summer when the sun barely set and the world glowed with light, folks here were quick to remind us:

But remember November is coming.

Winter is known for her darkness here in northern Europe, as the days quickly grow shorter heading into the solstice. In November in particular, Christmas lights and holiday ho ho magic haven’t started yet and things feel . . . well . . . dark.

The sun rose today close to 9:06 am and the sunset is at 5:20 pm. John just calculated that back in Wisconsin today there would be 2.5 more hours of sunlight.

Darkness this year, my first winter in Estonia, feels amplified post-US election. My apologies as I’ve been slow on the updates this past month as I keep starting – and restarting – various perspectives and takes on the whole situation, especially now observing things from over the pond. I’m still, as I know you are too, processing as both the US and, related, the world unfolds in this new era.

As all of this is happening, I’m literally sitting in darkness. But here’s my quick learning on my first season of Northern European winter:

There is beauty in darkness.

Despite all the somber warnings for November, I found the month in its own way magical. Living through contrasts amplifies our appreciation for both extremes: highs and lows, salty and sweet, summer glow and winter darkness.

Yes, my natural proclivity to be “glass half full” Lisa surely helps. But that said, there is indeed magic in the dark season and I’m growing and gaining a lot of new perspectives now living where the differences in seasons and the amount of light each brings varies much more dramatically and wider. Yes, summer gifted me with a different set of cards (and fresh currants!) that I loved. But next year that summer glow will feel even brighter, now about to approach the darkest point of winter.

On that note of the beauty and magic of winter . . .

Sharing three lessons darkness is now teaching me:

1) Deeper, different beauty

Cozy dark days inspired John to perfect his potato pancake recipe

Fairy lights strung around the living room.

Earlier yet amazing sunsets (which can justify bumping happy hour till 3 pm to catch the light!)

John’s fabulous potato pancakes for supper by candlelight.

The cozy factor grows exponentially this time of year and I’ve learned to embrace it like a warm, needed hug. My tea collection quickly took over a drawer in the kitchen and there is something warm in my mug all day long. I’ve discovered the joy of a hot evening bath, new for me as Tamme came with a lovely clawfoot tub.

We’re still waiting for our woodstove to be installed but that will certainly step up the cozy factor. The new woodstove has an oven feature we’re excited about for breads and pizzas.

2) New ideas percolate

Something about the darkness now prompts me to decelerate life’s pace a bit, especially in the early morning and late evening.

But a disclaimer:

Life itself here has not slowed down – rather, it’s speeding up. Now that we don’t have the distractions of summer fun, John and I can dig into a lot of pending issues we need to still resolve on the “move to Estonia” list, like finding a doctor and getting an Estonian driver’s license. Plus, we’re in the middle of constructions projects at Tamme, including a new garage, installing solar and building a greenhouse. Life remains abundantly full this season.

It’s on those fringes of the day, especially the longer morning and evenings in darkness, that I find a natural inclination right now to still take a breath, slow down and savor. I’m still an early riser and still naturally get up around 4 am whatever my time zone.

But instead of jumping into my Estonian language studies or that “move to Estonia” list, fresh ideas can start baking . . . like literally: maybe start a pop-up bakery next summer? Buy an investment property we could do tourist rentals at in beautiful Old Town Tallinn? Head somewhere warm in February? Get a cat? (Spoiler alert: check done on that one!)

3) Gratitude when light comes

Simple math: With less sun, we appreciate it more.

Last week, Mother Nature decided to celebrate with the first official snowfall of the season. In the morning as the sun peaked out, it was like we were in a crystal snowglobe. Magic once again.

It’s a time of year to look for the glimmers, the moments that you ordinarily might have never noticed but now feel so incredibly beautiful. The sun sets both earlier and much faster than in June, but I feel much more compelled to be sure to catch it.

What does this all mean related to the election and global political space? At least for me, right now, it’s a reminder to seek light — and, importantly, spread good light — wherever we are and go. Seasons cycle. Light always reappears, just perhaps in a different form.

So much has happened since we decided to make this Estonian leap last year. And while yes our list of challenges and new learnings continues to be long, the joys and glimmers of light deeply outweigh the barriers. Blueberries and other surprises and the anticipation of more to come. Gratitude to you for sharing in the journey!

Check out more photos (and ordering options) from John D. Ivanko on Alamy