I Stepped Off the Road and Found the Beauty of Finnish Nature

The winding forest floor, adorned with white-barked birches, beckoned me to step off the path, to wander into nature and see if there were any lingonberries to be found. The evening was already turning dusky, the sun still glowing on the horizon but making it clear that its time to slip away was near.

Would you like to experience something like this? We’d be delighted to take you into the forest—perhaps on a berry-picking or mushroom-foraging trip, or even on our Mythical Forest guided tour near Helsinki.

A couple of lingonberries here, three more over there. I was alone, in perfect peace. I let the berries guide my steps, moving forward wherever they led. The forest was a joy to walk through—this forest made no effort to confuse or trip me up. It simply allowed me to enjoy its berries, the crisp autumn air, the scent of fallen leaves, and the thrill of discovery when my fingers would suddenly land upon a hidden trove of plump, firm lingonberries, their skins snapping delightfully between my teeth.

A rustling sound reached my ears, and my gaze lifted. Before me stood a magnificent aspen, still almost fully dressed in its leaves, whispering in the early evening breeze so that its voice carried far. I circled the tree and placed my hand on its bark. You don’t just walk past an aspen without touching it—not an old one, at least. Deep grooves, a surface teeming with life—fingers long to feel it, the nose is drawn in close to take in its scent, the eyes sharpen to examine the lively patterns on its dark bark. An aspen carries not only its own life but that of so many others—fungi and lichens, mosses and tiny creatures. A great old aspen is like a world of its own in the vast universe of the forest.

Strange-looking bracket fungi grew on its trunk, nestled firmly into their crevices, not stretching far from the bark, as if they had found a cozy and secure place in those cracks. A deep fissure ran down the trunk and into the earth, and even in that hidden crevice, something was living, deep inside the tree.

The autumn wind, which had spent the day cheerfully racing over the forests, stripping almost every other deciduous tree bare, had not managed to undress this aspen. The wind merely made it sing, setting the forest ringing as though the tree had no intention of letting go of its leaves just yet. But it had scattered some for the delight of the forest around it—its broad-branched spruce neighbor had been adorned with the most colorful decorations. The sight was charming. The spruce no longer had thick clusters of needles, but the aspen’s golden leaves had dressed it up beautifully. Surely, the spruce was pleased.

Nearby stood another spruce—black and silver—or rather, it was now reclining, having leaned into its fall, surrendered its needles, and allowed a thick, coal-black beard of lichen to climb from its roots to its very tip. Yet it was still tall, and alongside the flaming aspen, it made for a striking pair.

The whole forest was beautiful—a mix of young and old trees, brimming with life, all coexisting in peace and harmony.

It occurred to me to wait for the stars to appear and return later to capture the aspen in a photograph beneath the night sky. I wanted to preserve this living being of our Earth together with the vastness of space—a tiny part of the cosmos in the form of a forest, and the grander part above it in the heavens. Imagine—our planet looks like this! Here, the wind rustles through golden aspen leaves beneath a deep blue sky, and fungi sit content in the tree’s crevices, watching as a wandering human stops to eat berries and gaze in awe. Not many planets have such a scene, at least not as far as we know.

By ten o’clock, the darkness was just right, and the stars had emerged. I set off into the forest. Even with my flashlight, it was hard to make out where the aspen stood… The bright beam cast sharp, wildly flickering shadows of twisted branches around me, swallowing everything else from view. It felt eerie. I switched off the light, and immediately, a sense of calm returned. It felt as though I could perceive my surroundings more clearly without the restless beam disturbing the moment. I knew there was nothing to fear in the forest.

I listened. The wind was still moving through the trees, and the rustling leaves guided me to the aspen. There it stood, beautifully beneath the starlit sky, in its own lovely forest, with the moon now peeking over the treetops near the river.

I lingered there for half an hour, listening to the leaves sing and watching the Milky Way and the ever-brightening moon. Its glow soon cast a soft, gentle light over the forest, so different from the flashlight’s harsh, blinding glare. A car passed by, then another. It was comforting to think that those people had no idea I was here, hidden by the aspen, enjoying the darkness and the presence of the forest. I had the woods all to myself, just the two of us, with no one passing by ever suspecting a thing.

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