An uncensored transcript of my notes of a day with a juniper on Utö, including video stills from the first and last sessions:
 
Utö 3 August 2019 at 7 am
Looking for a Juniper to share the day with I was hopping on the cliff with the “majstång”, the now dried-up midsummer decoration, and found the perfect companion down by the shore, a small, slightly rounded shrub that was clearly distinguished from the carpet-like patches, and with a piece of plain rock next to it. The sun was already high up in the sky, in the north-east, where the wind was blowing from. I placed my camera on a tripod, left it relatively low, so it would be more stable, and went to sit by the juniper. I forgot to put in the microphone cord, I noticed later. I had an impulse to take the small juniper “by the hand”, to hold on to its stem, so I did that, and sat there for a while. And then, as a reminiscence from a previous day with a spruce up in the north, I lay down on the rock and lift my feet up, as to try out a more vegetal mode of being for a moment…
 

 

 
8 am, a second session; now I know what I am doing and feel like relaxing into the day. The wind feels cold – I wonder how the winter storms feel like! This is the warmest time of the year, and I feel like looking for shelter… The juniper grows so low along the cliff exactly to mitigate the effects of the wind. There are some spider webs in between its branches – amazing that the web does not break. Most of the vegetation is low, the mosses and the various forms of lichen cling to the ground; the small ferns are bending in the wind, only the occasional grasses grow a little higher, and they move freely in the wind. – The sun is coming out from behind the clouds and it immediately feels warmer…
 
9 am, the sun is warming, despite the wind. I took a walk to the southern part of the island – extraordinary and beautiful, flat land with rocks and heather blooming… I came back to sit with the juniper in the wind, and saw the first sailing boat head out from the guest harbour, and then a small motor boat came over from the neighbouring island, across the “strait”. I sat with the juniper and closed my eyes – and lost track of time. Thus, this session was a few minutes longer. And I came down to the bench by the road to make these notes, to have at least partly some shelter from the wind. Now most of the clouds have disappeared and the sky is blue – a great day ahead, it seems…
 
10 am, the day has only begun, and I have already visited or seen most of the important places on the island – the shop, the cafeteria, the entrance to the military area, the lighthouse, the rubbish storage centre, the museum, the heritage house, the visitors’ harbour, and the hotel and the restaurant, of course. I have not been up in the lighthouse, though. – In the shop I bought myself a tourist cap, as a souvenir and as sun protection. The sun burns my head through my thin hair even if the wind feels cool… so now I am protected. I do not wear the cap while I sit with the juniper, though, it is only for the walks across the island.
 
11 am. Clouds again, plenty of them, some grey, but most of them light and fluffy. I noticed the moss was torn next to the juniper where I sit. How little is needed to disturb and destroy! The moss is dry, and breaks easily, even if I try to be light and careful. But, of course I am huge and heavy, clumsy, too. This time I walked to the small church or chapel between the sessions, and went up to the hill on the eastern side – there, too, is a sign warning of military area. I did not see any grave yard, there is supposed to be one, and I assumed it would be near the chapel, but never mind. I should relax and focus on the juniper instead of running around like a nervous tourist. But, I am a nervous tourist, after all…
 
Noon, the sun is almost warm, people are out on the small lane that passes the harbour. I found the graveyard finally, it is in the middle of the island, small and pretty. And past it a path leads to the southern shore, which looked lovely and peaceful – but then I noticed the remains of a bunker on the shore. Human activity, at its worst, is present everywhere. But the “basic” quality of the landscape is fascinating, regardless… I looked at the graves and wondered if this would be a good place to rest – but then I would have to spend ten or twenty years here, first, to motivate the choice of resting place. And that could be a nice way to retire, why not. But how to find a small cabin that would be free to rent (or buy) in this place – that would be quite a challenge. Perhaps one day with a juniper is enough – or then another day some other time, to begin with…
 
1 pm, the light is strong, now coming from the right, south, when I sit with the juniper, facing east (I suppose). For some reason lying on my back with feet up is not especially comfortable. On the contrary, it feels like I have to strain my muscles to keep the position, and I am slightly irritated that I did not check which way would have been best visually. But I am really happy with the place I chose, and also the juniper that somehow “volunteered” to be my partner. Well, to be honest, I did not ask for its consent, nor did I wait for its reaction or for any sign from it that I could feel or imagine. But I take the sudden impulse to take hold of its stem as a sign of sorts… and when I sit there I do not sense any hostility from its side, nor any particular affection either, I must say… But what can you expect from a juniper? Not being stingy or grumpy is already a lot, I think…
 
2 pm, afternoon, warm and relaxed atmosphere, after lunch -feeling all over the place, or so it seems. The lunch at the hotel was nice and simple – fish soup and pancakes – and I feel like an intern in a hospital or school or whatever, with a fixed routine. Before sitting with the juniper, I took a look at the lichen around me, and there were plenty of variety – yellow, white, grey, greenish, black… from small almost imperceptible “stains” on the rock to big leaves, dry and brittle moving in the wind. As so often happens, everything else around it, not the juniper, becomes very interesting. And there are so many other junipers as well, probably relations to my friend, which nevertheless seems rather old. I saw some really old ones – I assume because of the size of their stems – in the middle of the island, but even they were relatively low and sturdy – of course. I am past half way in my endeavour now, I guess. If I will continue until 9 pm, this was the “middle session”, and why wouldn’t I? What else would be more important, here now, today…
 
3 pm, windy… It seems like the wind stays the same, but sometimes it simply feels stronger. Now I found the path to the southwestern tip of the island – magic! There was a weird sculpture with a fallen cross and a star, but also a lot of bunkers or underground constructions that I did not enter… The view from the tip was amazing, with open sea everywhere, with only small rocks here and there. That area would be my favourite, if I would come here for a longer time. There was an enormous boulder, and a bench attached to it’s eastern side, as if made for a morning meditation. There was also a small cabin, almost like an ice-cream “kiosk”, but very much abandoned. I wonder what it had been. Now there was a small colour study on one of its walls… The boulder and the bench would be enough, something nice could be done there… or then on the road that runs through the area. I almost felt like dragging some toy on wheels behind me on the path…
 
4 pm, the sun no longer warms as much as before; the wind feels more chilly, it has turned from north-east to north, or north to north-west, slightly. I can see my shadow now on the rocks, but probably the camera will not. At some point the camera’s shadow might become visible in the image; that would be stupid. But, there is nothing I can do about that now. I hope the wind will not grow too strong, overturning the tripod. I wonder why the juniper does not have any berries – there were junipers on the rocks with plenty of berries on the other side. Perhaps it is a male, despite its form? Or then berries is not a luxury you can afford every year. If I remember correctly, it takes two years for juniper berries to ripen, the first year they are green, and blue only the following year. A little further up, where I am sitting now, the junipers on the rocks have green berries… hm…
 
5 pm, yes, the wind is increasing, now it is 9 m/s according to the weather report on my phone, and will be strong until 8 pm or more. This is not a strong wind for the outer archipelago, of course, but I am concerned about my camera. The tripod is quite robust, but to be on the safe side I picked a rather heavy (1-2 kg) rock and placed it in my camera bag, hanging from the tripod near the ground, to put the centre of weight as low as possible. The microphone with its wind protection is almost like a small sail, catching the wind, but hopefully the rock in the bag will outweigh that… there are four more sessions to go, and then I am done…
 
6 pm, wind, wind, wind! I found a spot on the cliffs with a little protection to write, but the wind gets everywhere… it is afternoon, still, the sun is high, but the evening is approaching, the shadows grow. The boat from Nagu arrived with new people, walking around, looking confused. After one day on the island I feel almost at home. But I am tired of this repetition, I have to admit. – It is nothing against you, dear juniper, I really appreciate your hospitality and patience, but I am tired of this wind, which gets into my bones. I wonder how you manage to get used to it, or do you? Without some kind of habituation, you would not survive, I suppose. And of course, with a different sense of time there might be more variation, with the wind blowing one day from the north and then next week from the south west and so on… I still admire your patience, I must say!
 
7 pm, wind, wind, wind! I guess I could stop here, because I started at 7 am, but there is a lot of light, so why stop now? Two more sessions, ideally. – I guess I am going to remember you as my silent companion, dear juniper. I hope you look good in the images, that we look good together. Now it is time for dinner, and rest assured that I will remember you while eating. I know everything I eat, every single item, is somehow originally produced by you or other types of vegetation that has made this world habitable for all other creatures, well, at least animals. Being able to capture the energy of the sun into something other creatures can digest is a marvellous skill, so congratulations for that, and thank you!
 
8 pm, evening shadows. Now the wind is so chilly that I came indoors to write these notes. The camera shadow is visible in the image, I’m afraid. But perhaps that’s ok, actually, revealing the technology at the end. This was not the end, but the next to last session. The shadow will be even longer one hour from now… It is funny to feel so cold when this is the warmest time of the year. You are standing or sitting out there on the cliff in the wind not only through the night but through the whole winter. And unlike many grasses you do not wither, nor do you shed your leaves like alders, ashes and rowans, for instance, but keep your needles green. That is quite amazing, really. But animals have their furs, too. So, something of a thermostat takes care that you don’t freeze completely, I suppose. And there on the rock you cannot really hide in the ground or under a snow cover either… Well, I just have to face it, I don’t understand how you do it…
 
9 pm, the last session. The sun is still up, but partly behind the clouds; the long shadows almost disappear. Now I’m shivering when sitting next to you, trying to breathe slowly. This is the end of our day together, and I have to admit that I am relieved that it is now over. I will hope all the best for you and wish you the best of luck for the coming winter and the years to come. And I do hope that I did not disturb you too much. I noticed the spider web that survived the wind all afternoon was now gone. There is always a point when enough is enough and it is hard to know in advance. My point for calling it a day has come now. For you there might be many, many years more to come – at least I hope so. Goodbye for now!
 

 

 
The following morning, 9 am, I went to visit the juniper for a last time – without the witnessing camera – just to say goodbye. I noticed with delight that a new spider web was already in place to compensate for the one torn by the wind yesterday. I had an impulse to take a tiny branch of the juniper and see if I could make it grow at home. I tried to break it carefully, but managed to create a long white wound in the bark, and suddenly realized I was behaving like a lunatic, hurting my friend due to my misplaced possessiveness. Deeply ashamed I pressed the small twig into the moss and hoped that it might develop some roots there, and left quickly. – Relationships with anything have never been my forte…