If you grow up in a place where the forest belongs to your natural environment, you will painfully miss its absence elsewhere. The rustling of the tree tops above your head, cracking of the branches under your feet, gathering blueberries in summer and mushrooms in autumn. One can’t imagine that trees can be something precious. Above the Arctic Circle, trees hardly root and grow towards the sky. The climate is harsh and the landscape barren. In such a place every even crooked and stunted specimen caught my attention and affection.