Spring Sauna Weekends
Two friends from the International School of Helsinki, Ken and Jonathan, prepping food for the charcoal grill in the outdoor kitchen. Jon Hull
Venjärvi in Porvoo
May 22, 2022
I find myself beside a lake on a dock with a floating sauna. Up the hill, behind the old cottage, a woodpile and a hatchet beckon. The surface of the lake unfroze recently. The sauna will need to be hot before I swim.
The floating sauna in Porvoo. Jon Hull
I climb the hill. A few well-placed thwacks of the hatchet splinter logs into wrist-sized kindling: perfect for the woodstove in the sauna. I trod back down the hill with my armful of wood.
The flames take quickly. The sauna warms. I strip my clothes and lower myself into the biting cold of the lake.
Myllylahti in Lohja
May 27, 2022
It stays light late. Alex Curry and I are sitting on the front porch of a Finnish cottage waiting for the woodstove to heat the sauna. It is near 10 pm and the sun is still up. Birds swoop across the surface of the lake, singing in the rain.
Over dinner, we talked about our siblings, favorite history books, and philosophies on life, but we mostly listened to birdsong and the pitter-patter of rain on the roof. I am writing in my notebook; Alex is reading about Stonewall Jackson. Tomorrow, I’ll listen as he shares simple facts that color an otherwise dark area in my knowledge of the Civil War.
I’ll check the sauna now. Though it’s nearly June, the air is 55° F and the water is colder. The sauna provides a blissful escape from the damp cold. Still, it’s a challenge of its own if it gets hot enough in there. The dizzying heat makes another dip in the nearly freezing lake seem like a great idea.
…
A sketch of the cottage that Alex and I stayed in. It was ten steps from the sauna to the lake. Jon Hull
May 28, 2022
The sun glints off of the lake. It would send a dazzling array of reflections toward Alex and me if there were any wind. Instead, it’s a steady glare.
The sun is noteworthy because it mostly hid for the past three days. The steady sound of raindrops gave way to a carpenter bee which takes refuge in the roof somewhere. He is hard at work, buzzing around, slowly destroying the cabin.
All around us, owls heave their melancholy hoots over the water. The sound of the owls alone would be haunting, but it has a calming effect in tandem with the songbirds. The sun slides slowly sideways through the sky. It seems it will never set. These days are impossibly, perfectly long.
Check out Jessica’s photos page. There are tons of photos up from the past few months.