SVALBARD 78°12’57.6”N 15°45’18.8”E
AZTRID NOVILLO
it has been more than two months since I last felt the warmth of the sun on my face. Slowly, the sunlight is returning to the archipelago, unveiling the stunning mountains that had been hidden beneath the darkness of the polar night. The sky is now being painted in the most vibrant hues I’ve ever seen—deep, dark blues, rich purples, fiery oranges, and pinks. Svalbard, still blanketed in snow, is delighting us with its peaceful beauty. The mountains have transformed into a white canvas, upon which nature paints the stories of every living creature’s journey. Stepping into the wild, I find the foot- prints of local wildlife everywhere. From Svalbard ptarmigans and arctic foxes to polar bears, and of course, us, humans. Almost as a time journal, the paths overlap, stories intertwine, and it’s clear how much life this place holds, even in its harshest season. Each day, the daylight hours stretch a little longer, and in just a few weeks, the sun will rise above the horizon once more. “And this flower remained in bloom, even through the darkest times of the polar night, waiting for the sun she knew would shine through after all.” Today, we celebrate the official return of the sun to our town. With festive joy, people gather to sing, basking in the warmth of sunlight once again. Children’s choirs, poetry readings, hot chocolate, and even exotic fruits mark the occasion. It’s a day of renewal —a celebration of the season’s shift, full of adventure, new life, and a deeper connection to the wild. As I walk along the shoreline after the town’s celebration, I hear the distant calls of seagulls. I look up, and there they are. I haven’t seen or heard a single bird in months. A tear runs down my cheek as I think to myself, “all life is coming back.” A flock of about 30 seagulls dance in the sky, almost as if they’re celebrating in their own way. “The mountains borrowed the blue, and the sky dressed up in pink. The harsh winter suddenly felt like poetry, touched by the sun. Every little worry faded, and only joy remained.” From the darkness of the polar night to the eternal brightness of the midnight sun, the archipelago is now painted in pastel shades, marking the arrival of migratory birds. Year after year, they return here to breed: Brünnich guillemots, black-legged kittiwakes, snow buntings, little auks, common eiders, purple sandpipers, arctic terns—and the list goes on. Suddenly, the sky is bursting with life. But it’s not just wildlife that returns to the archipelago this time of year. Due to tourism, the small settlements also see an influx of human visitors. Just like the migratory birds, tour guides and tourists begin arriving more frequently, eager to experience the beauty of this place. This year, the fjord just outside Longyearbyen froze completely—an event that hasn’t occurred in the past 20 years. It’s a rare sight, and it brings with it a sense of hope for this place.
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MOTHER VOLUME FOUR
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