A WITCHES' BREW OF AUTUMN STORMS?

Yesterday I was back from a two weeks' sailing trip to Dalmatia. I won't bore you with details, suffice it to say that it was like sailing in Swedish summer weather, with temperatures around 25 degrees and the water just about as warm as it is around our Stockholm islands when we are being blessed by the sun. Back home I was pleased to note that my television now had access to a multitude of new channels, so I spent almost all of my first night at home with eyes glued to the screen. No morning pictures from me this time, I am afraid! A late brunch was all I could master after this night of excesses. A refreshing walk to regain vigour seemed in order. Whilst ambling along the shores, the sky got darker and darker, closing its windows against the sun as if longing for an early evening. I rushed back home early, fearing that a downpour was imminent. 

As always, I hastened to document my views with the camera for your benefit. So here you have it: a sky at noon so dark that it is almost black, punctured by sharp sunrays burnishing the quay on the opposite side of Hammarby Sound. Doesn't it look as if a storm is imminent? Well you are as wrong as me in thinking so, just three hours later, the sky is lifting and the sun is spreading its benign glow over a cosy autumn landscape. This gets me thinking: we are living a year of climatic excesses here in Stockholm; the coldest winter since 30 years back and the warmest early summer ever. Will the excesses continue into autumn? If so, I am afraid that we are sliding into a period of terrible autumn storms. Let's hope that my apartment building will survive the onslaught. Last time it happened, way back in the 'seventies, my neighbourhood was completely devastated by the storm. Most roofs sailed away into an early demise and one 9-floor building got its southern wall sucked away by the storm, with balconies and all, leaving a meter of open air for the storm to howl through in peoples' living room. You may think that I am too pessimistic about this; you are probably right, but, as a former central banker, I abide by the rule to always prepare for the worst, whilst hoping for the best.

REACHING THE SHORE

This picture looks a bit over the top, I know. But I can’t help it, this is how Hammarby Sound is performing for us on this first morning of September at 6.30. It is late in the season and the sun is shining at a low angle long into the morning; warming the first ferry boat, crossing the sound, with its indirect light; and blazing its rays at the boats anchored on the quay opposite to mine. 

Looking at the ferry, steadily treading its course, gets me to thinking about the economic situation in the Western world. There are some similarities here: our economy is like a boat striving to reach the shore of renewed vigour and appears to be puffing forward at the moment, after a period’s hiatus. But can we be sure that it will reach this shore, when looking at it from afar, like the ferry boat in Hammarby Sound? I fear not! In fact, the ship is full of holes in its bottom and being kept afloat only through a steady pumping of new moneys into the system. The holes are getting bigger and the pumping getting slower. Soon we will see whether the ship will get stuck in the marches, or will succeed in making a good landing after all. Let’s keep our fingers crossed. Our pension benefits are depending on a good finish! 

AUGUST MOON - HARBINGER OF AUTUMN

As usual, the sound of the first boat trafficking Hammarby Sound woke me up from an uneasy sleep at 5.45 this morning. No use prolonging my turning around in bed; instead, I saluted a rare sunrise morning after several days of rain and dusk. When treading out to the balcony, I turned away from the usual sight, photographed so many times already, to let my back benefit from the sun for a while. But how delighted i was at seeing the low sun bathing the Skanstull bridges and lock with its golden shine. Amazingly, the reflections of glass facades in the water shone much clearer than the facades themselves. An effect of the sun's angle on the horizon, no doubt. 

Above it all throned a full moon, the August moon so adored by the Swedes! It signals the start of the crayfish party season, with much drinking and frolicking, a remainder from heathen times and their ancient sacrifices to thank the goods for a good harvest and prolong the memories of a mellow summer. 

Since we are looking at Hammarby Sound from a new angle this time, let me finish by showing you another view. This picture was taken yesterday around 14.30, at a rare intermission in the steady raining of that day.

RETURN OF THE BLUE HOUR

Early this morning, I languished in a troublesome dream. Dragons were pursuing me with terrible screeches, flapping their wings and flashing their teeth. Gradually I turned awake, glad for the return of rational perceptions. But the screeching went on unabated! I rushed to the living room windows and had a quick look outside. It was still rather dark, at 4.30 in the morning. But I still was able to discern a flock of sizable sea gulls gushing around our building and disturbing the neighbourhood with their loud grating voices, as if complaining about lack of food in the “canyons” of our apartment block that they surely perceive as a cliff on the seaside. Soon the flock went on to awaken other residents further off and I stepped out to the balcony to savour the early morning views.

Standing at the balcony rails I was surprised at the relative darkness of the hour. But I should not be! It is almost two months after midsummer now and the white nights are gone. Instead we can again benefit from the beautiful blue haze that is welcoming us early risers as compensation for getting up too early. Best to savour this atmosphere whilst there is still summer, with its promise of a healthy sunrise just a short while later. In a couple of months, the blueness will prevail well into the morning and stay with us even when venturing outside to our daily working venues.

Those of us already longing for the return of the white nights may wish to look at the picture below. It shows the same view a month ago, AND AS EARLY AS 3 AM. What a difference a month makes!

ON THE FRONT

Yesterday was one of those days; rain falling from morning to evening, sometimes mitigated down to drizzle, but never relenting and continuing well into the night. This of course invited a preponed sleep-in, with the sound of steady dripping drowning other evening sounds and creating a somnolent atmosphere. But, around 5.15 AM, I was suddenly awake, wondering where the steady dripping had gone to. The rain had stopped and a serene quiet reigned over Hammarby Sound (Hammarby Sjö). Still half asleep, I sneaked out to the balcony for a check of weather prospects for the newly born day. Well, there was not much I could see. The warmth of the early sun rise had created, in the humidity after the rain, a lofty blanket of fog that enveloped the Sound with its airy cotton, allowing just glimpses of boats and quay in the near distance.

We are now experiencing the normal Swedish High Summer, with rainy days occasionally interspersed by sunny interludes. The continent is heating up, especially in its Eastern ranges far into Russia. Out there in the Northern Atlantic, the water is also getting warm, with corresponding influences on the air above. The front between these two masses of warming air is building Lows that typically migrate over Scandinavia, with Sweden being the final recipient. The result is cloudy days and rain, lasting until the clouds have fully disbursed their watery burden; whereupon there is a brief respite, with a few sunny days, until there are new clouds filled with moisture to disburse. This battle front of air masses striving for supremacy is governing the Swedish summer well into August. First when temperatures are starting to abate on the continent, is there hope for a new sunny period, albeit shorter and later in the season. 

THE ETERNAL LONGING FOR THE SEA

Two days ago, I rose late from a good night's sleep. The weather had cooled off the day before for the first time after a long lasting heat wave and this did me a lot of good during the night. The morning was clear and agreeable and I munshed my breakfast on the balcony. As I was sipping my coffee, I could not help noticing that a long string of boats was huffing and puffing seawards. So I rushed to get my camera to document this nice event for your benefit. 

The boats trafficking below my windows usually come in batches like this. Just 500 meters to the left of my apartment, Lake Mälar (Mälaren) empties itself into the Baltic. At this precise spot there is a pound lock located under the three Skanstull bridges, which opens only once an hour or so, forcing the boats into an orderly queue when sailing towards the sea. One has to admire these hardy sailors who have to spend many hours of drudging through the inner archipelago of Stockholm before seeing, at long last, some open bays and beautiful skerries further out in the Baltic. But this does not detain robust Swedes who entertain a life long love affair with the sea and spend their free time, either, on a boat among the skerries or, more sedately, in a summer house out there somewhere.

MIDSUMMER HEAT IS GLARING

This is a year of climate excesses, at least in Sweden. You may recall last winter, so harsh and snowy that Stockholm was shrouded in white from December to March ("Midwinter-night cold is harsh"). We now are approaching the opposite end of the scale, with summer heat reaching record values of 35 degrees and above, unheard of since at least 15 years back.

Yesterday I returned by train from Scania in Southern Sweden, where I visited some friends at their summer cottage. The trip normally takes about 6 hours (Sweden is a big country). But due to the heat, fires on the track and loss of power on the rails, the train was just standing at a station for four hours, awaiting the signal to proceed. Fortunately there was air conditioning on board. Eventually we got moving again and I arrived back home in Hammarby Sjöstad around midnight. The trip took as long as my trip home from Chicago a month ago!

After a couple hours of uneasy sleep the sun found its way through the curtains and touched my cheeks, reminding me that another long sunny day was in the making. When I went out to the balcony, at 4.30 in the morning, Hammarby Sound (Hammarby Sjö) lay completely quiet in the golden glow of early sunshine. The water was subdued and acted as a mirror for the yellow gleam of heaven. The heat was still bearable, but already above 20 degrees and rising. Another glaring day in the making, a treat for the sun-loving Swedes!