Crown snow-load weighs still heavy on the shoulders of candle-shaped spruces. From smallest branches jutting out from the snow to tallest trees standing exposed on the fell sides, everything is covered in magical rime and whiteness. But it would be only a matter of days, when the wind and risen temperatures will shake off the memories of the winter. In the horizon, snow fields of the distant and bare fells glimmer in the spring sun. With the retreating coldness, new enthusiasm sounds in the singing of cute, tiny Siberian tits and playful -jays. Old northern raven wanders high up in the sky, monitoring the progress of the spring, like it has done for years.
On both sides of ski trails openes up a vast, untouchable wilderness – the home of hares, reindeers and other arctic survivors. Strong wind sweeps over the treeless fell tops but lower, only the swooshing of the skis disturbs the silence.
At night wakes up another magic world. After the day has disappeared behind the fells and starfields started to twinkle ever brighter in the darkening night, the Northern Lights begin their own, enchanting play.
Lapland kept its promise, once again, and calls back to it the next winter too.