Finland’s Ever-Changing Seasons: A Journey Through Weather and Climate

 It was a cold, silent morning in Rovaniemi, and Lauri wrapped his thick woolen scarf around his neck before stepping outside. The crisp air hit his face like a thousand tiny needles, but he smiled, knowing that this was just another day in the heart of Finnish winter. The world around him was painted white—snow covered every rooftop, every tree, and even the frozen river that stretched beyond the town. It was a scene straight out of a fairy tale, a season of stillness and beauty.

Finland’s climate varies widely from south to north, influenced heavily by its long coastline and proximity to the Arctic Circle. Winters here are long and cold, particularly in the north, where temperatures can plummet to -30°C (-22°F) or lower. The southern cities like Helsinki and Turku experience milder conditions, with temperatures averaging between -5°C and -10°C (23°F to 14°F). Snow blankets much of the country from November to April, turning the forests into winter wonderlands and freezing the thousands of lakes into solid ice. Lauri had grown up ice skating on frozen lakes, and to him, winter in Finland was the purest form of magic.

But the darkness—oh, the darkness. In the far north, the sun disappears completely for weeks during the deep winter, leaving only a faint twilight to brighten the sky for a few hours. Yet even in the dark, there was light: the Northern Lights. Lauri had seen them countless times, the green and purple ribbons swirling in the sky like cosmic fire. He never tired of them; they were nature’s way of reminding him that even the longest, coldest nights held a kind of magic.

Then, almost imperceptibly, winter loosened its grip, and spring arrived. At first, it was just a whisper—a slightly longer day, a hint of warmth in the sun’s rays. The snow began to recede, rivers swelled with meltwater, and the forests, so silent all winter, came alive with birdsong. The transition was slow; in northern Finland, snow could still be found in May. But when it finally came, the change was breathtaking. The air smelled fresh, filled with the scent of pine and damp earth. People emerged from their homes, eager to feel the sun on their skin once more.

By June, summer had taken hold, and with it came the most famous phenomenon of the Finnish year: the Midnight Sun. In the north, the sun never set, bathing the landscape in golden light for weeks on end. Even in the south, the nights were never truly dark, only dim and blue. Lauri cherished these endless days, when the forests were lush, the lakes warm enough for swimming, and the air filled with the scent of wildflowers and fresh-cut grass. Finnish summers were short, with temperatures averaging between 15°C and 25°C (59°F to 77°F), but they were precious. People made the most of every moment—hiking, canoeing, picking berries, and retreating to their lakeside cottages for the ultimate Finnish tradition: sauna.

Then, as suddenly as it had arrived, summer began to fade. The first hints of autumn appeared in August, with the leaves turning fiery shades of red and gold. By September, the air carried a crispness that hinted at the winter to come. This was ‘ruska,’ the Finnish autumn, and Lauri always found it the most beautiful time of year. The forests transformed into a painter’s palette of color, the lakes reflected the brilliant hues, and the air was perfect for long walks and last outdoor gatherings before the cold returned.

Autumn in Finland was short-lived. By October, the first frost crept in, and by November, the days had grown noticeably shorter. The cycle began anew, with winter waiting just around the corner.

Finland’s climate is one of extremes—long, dark winters balanced by endless summer days. But the Finns had learned to embrace it, finding joy in every season. Whether it was the quiet beauty of a snowy forest, the thrill of a midsummer bonfire, or the vibrant colors of autumn, there was always something to love about Finland’s ever-changing weather.

As Lauri watched the first flakes of snow begin to fall once more, he smiled. No matter how many winters he had lived through, the sight of that first snowfall still felt special. Finland’s climate was more than just weather—it was a way of life, woven into the fabric of the nation’s soul.