Between lush ivy tendrils and redcurrants. The garden shifts perspectives: a view into the landscape, a view into the village, a view of the house. The eyes linger on the facade and sink into the traces of time.

Bare feet brush through the morning dew. Marigold. Sage. Poppy. Herbs thrive in the cottage garden, with the tart scent of quinces hanging above. Sometimes, after grilling, your smoky clothes might hang by the door. Later, in the last evening light, thick snowflakes fall evenly and quietly veil the garden bench, the red barberries, and the asters. The path to the sauna isn’t far at all.