Colours of Lentua
by Nils Schweckendiek
Staying in a cottage on the forested shores of Lake Lentua in eastern Finland, the sky overcast.  With the intermittent light wind the chimes on the balcony intimate the ghost of a high, fragile, sad music.  I think of mournful or nostalgic Finnish folk music, of the minor-key tuning of the kantele, traditional plucked instrument. The many greys of the lake, luminous, still and strong, black in the shadows of the trees, forbidding light and dark shades shifting coldly in the barely perceptible nearby waves, silently announcing the water's challenge, impenetrable.  And the fire at night to warm the cottage, flaring up now here, now there over a threatening glow, so evanescent that it's impossible to capture in a photograph;  the logs silhouettes against the sudden deep orange brightnesses, the dead white ash, still hot from recent life.  Though the leaves are still green, the air is cold; it's August, going on November.  The piece lasts about six minutes.  
Nils Schweckendiek
Click here to play an extract of the music
(1 min 29 secs, filesize 439KB)
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