When we arrived in Stockholm, I embarked on a project to document the city every month, for one year. Plenty of people share the grammable spots but I wanted to show everyday normality and capture how the city changed during the monumental shift between Summer and Winter. Not just that,
February was a month of semlor, grey but longer days, more cold and continued lethargy. I looked back on previous posts for this month because I really couldn't think of much to summarise, and it's the same every year! So please enjoy the impressive number of
January was a month of low sun, sledge travel, wildlife prints in the snow, crunchy pavements, gritter noise, long shadows, sunglasses, lethargic Stockholmers and white snow filled nighttime skies. Stockholm is a very clean city. Demonstrated by the remarkably small amount of litter in this mound containing several weeks of
December was a month of snow, blue "daylight", cosy candles, big boots, wooly hats and darkness. We've handled Winter pretty well since moving here, but struggled much more this time around. I can't even really pinpoint why — our friends also said this Winter seemed
November was a month of saffron buns, Winter sun (more than last year), the first snow (less than last year), colourful sunsets, roe deer, wooly hats, delivery of war and crisis booklets to every household, dry air, poinsettia, julstjärna in windows and hyacinths in supermarkets. Temperatures were also weirdly mild
October was a month of pelts in prams, reflectors on jackets, low sun, pumpkins and gourds, rustling leaves, blue light, piles of apples, misty mornings, the return of candles in cafés, cool air and closed toe shoes. Temperatures dipped at the end of the month and suddenly, my thin cotton
September was a month of the first yellow leaves, fewer tourists, people in jackets followed by a blast of heat (28°c), clattering cutlery in outdoor restaurants, heaps of kantarell and an undertone of lethargy that comes from knowing months of darkness are looming. We woke up on Södermalm to
August was a month of bustling cafés, striped parasols, sticky heat, loppis tucked away in courtyards, lines of cyclists, pots of heather, blazing sunsets and very heavy rain. This isn't the greatest photo but I was lucky to capture the moment. I looked out of the bakery window
We hit that point in the year where we could no longer resist the call of Gotland. I packed two cameras for the trip: my usual digital camera plus a 35mm Agfa Silette Pronto (1958) that belonged to my Grandpa. Paired with Kodak Tri-X 400 because I love it and
July was a month of humidity, socks with sandals, the first kantareller, ghost town suburbs, sommarstängt notes, cheap vegetables in supermarkets, baking hot public transport, pelargoniums, cool rain, stacks of pastel coloured ice cream in cones, and bursts of green all over the city. We felt slightly guilty walking past
June was a month of high temperatures, streets that smelt like strawberries, deep blue skies, floaty clothing, Aperol spritz adverts, white caps on heads, tick vaccination signs, pop-up bars, fashionable cyclists, sun worshipers and sporadic rain. As the temperature rose, so did the number of people flocking to the water.
May was a month of warm sun, chalk drawings on pavements, the smell of grills in the evenings, eager sunbathers, swathes of blossom, closed eyes on faces pointed towards the sun, ice-cream menus appearing on shacks and a renewed sense of oomph throughout the city. A complete contrast to the
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