We all know where Santa Claus lives and what he does for a living. He is holed up in his whimsical village in Rovaniemi, Lapland, crafting toys amid the Arctic Circle’s perpetual twilight in winter. I will not discuss his eating habits here, like sneaking gingerbread or pondering reindeer chow. But what I want to tell you about is the beautiful summers on the Finnish island next to Moomin World, that enchanting spot on the Gulf of Bothnia where Tove Jansson’s beloved trolls come to life in wooden trails and storybook harbors. Imagine Kaitainen Island in the early July glow, with endless daylight stretching into midnight, the air crisp and buzzing with bees.

Deers stroll leisurely in the evening sun, crossing open fields unbothered by humans, their antlers silhouetted against golden meadows dotted with wildflowers and birch groves. It’s a serene ballet of nature, where these graceful creatures pause to nibble on lush grass, embodying Finland’s harmonious wild heart, far from the tourist throngs of Santa’s official stomping grounds. Imagine sitting on the bench watching the sun setting in July and the family of deers passing by, looking for a better spot to eat and rest.

Finland is filled with different kinds of berries across the country. Some of the over 50 kinds of berries there, with 37 edible, are found only in the north part of the country, thriving in the boggy mires and sun-dappled forests that carpet the landscape. Cloudberries, crowberries, cranberries, wild strawberries, raspberries and lingonberries, amongst others, are a standard sight on Finnish tables. They are used for making jams, liquors, shakes, added to meat, smeared on the cheese. You name it and Finns add berries to it—their tart brightness cutting through creamy porridges or pairing with smoked reindeer in summer feasts. These foraged gems aren’t just food; they’re a cultural ritual, evoking everyman’s right (jokamiehenoikeus) to roam and harvest, connecting locals to the land’s rhythms under skies alive with the aurora’s memory or summer’s midnight sun.

What my Other Me is looking forward to every time we travel to Finland is a blueberry pie. Homemade. Berries are picked in a nearby forest, and not bought in a nearby shop, where you can find big and juicy fruits. On the contrary to what you see in the frozen section in grocery stores, wild berries are always smaller, less juicy and not very sweet—their intense, earthy flavor a true taste of the Nordic wild, bursting with antioxidants and that subtle piney tang from the undergrowth. Of course you can eat berries standing in the forest, having your lips and tongue colored to a very dark violet, as you pluck them fresh amid mosquito hums and bird calls. But a basket of the fruits is brought back home, washed, prepared to be laid on the dough bottom, and covered in a cream. It is a very simple recipe to make in your kitchen, but the final outcome is amazing. Add Finnish kerma (thick cream), place the pie for 30 minutes in the oven, and you can enjoy local berries in one of the most traditional Finnish pies. Finns tend to have it at family gatherings or simply with a coffee at midday break. The Other Me likes to have it with black filtered coffee while sitting outside in the garden, perhaps on that island bench watching ferries chug toward Moomin shores. My favorite way to have it is to eat it by hand while standing and enjoying the Finnish summer—crumbly crust flaking onto wild grass, deer ambling in the distance, the sun refusing to set on this berry-scented paradise.