Then I opened my laptop. This was the first time I could actually work online high above the clouds, thanks to the SAS Eurobonus free WiFi. I looked at the Midlife in Italy website I had built months ago in an attic office overlooking the Florentine rooftops. "You do not have to move. You just need solo seasons." I let the memories of these last months flood me, and ordered a glass of white wine. The blue sky replaced the city below me as I transferred both mentally and physically to a state of between seasons.

I changed planes at Arlanda in Stockholm and boarded the smaller SAS jet to the mountains and Åre Östersund Airport. I bought a lovely salty caramel muffin midair and just relaxed, still a bit sad about saying goodbye to Florence, Emma, and Sid. He will stay with her in Florence for a while, catching up on lost time during her year at the University of York.

The descent over Frösön was heartwarmingly familiar. Forests, green fields, red farmhouses. The Welcome to Östersund sign through the airplane window looked like a promise kept.

I was home again.

As always I was welcomed by the stuffed reindeer at baggage claim. There is another one by the fireplace, a striking contrast to Florence. I love this airport. It has the true arctic mountain vibe, and it is so cozy, which is the whole point of the north.

Our cabin back home smelled of coffee and birch firewood, just as I remembered. I lit the fire with a Solstickan match and sat mesmerized by the crackling and the scent before I did anything else. The coffee brewer gurgled in the silence beyond the cabin. The old copper box sat beside the wooden spoon. These were the sights, scents, and sounds I had longed for without naming them. Some homesickness hides in the acoustics of daily life.

I went for a walk in the summer sun. The gravel road outside our cabin was warm under my sandals. A reindeer stood still and watched me, as if asking why I had stayed away so long this time. I had no answer.

Loving two places is possible, but living in them simultaneously is not.

Midsummer at Frösön arrived. The true Swedish idyll. A cabin in the morning light, the lilacs, the vast views, the calves drinking water behind my shoulder, me with a Midsummer flower wreath in my hair. Traditional herring on the table, friends and family gathering and reaching for plates, the red houses glowing against the lush greenery. Nordic nights where the light never fully leaves.

Then the beloved everyday life in our cabin. My husband cooking. Warm hugs. The radio playing the traditional summer program Sommar i P1. The fresh mountain air smelling of woodsmoke, flowers, silence, and freedom.

I walk the lake path daily, wildflowers in my hands. Ansätten rises across the arctic water, its reflection rippling where trout leap after dragonflies. The summer sky above the mountain is blue like a diamond, the same blue I left above Florence.

And then a storm can arrive, as out of nowhere. Mountain storms do not announce themselves, they just suddenly shake the trees. This one came with heavy rain pouring down the storehouse roof like a waterfall, turning the porch into a drum.

I lit a candle in the green ceramic holder I got for Christmas. Outside, the storm roared. Inside, I sat on the couch with my laptop on a pillow, the reindeer skin on the wall behind me, tea steaming in the wooden kåsa. I watched the rain. I watched the fire. The "Seven Days to Find Your Next Chapter" page was open on my MacBook. A few days ago I was in the Florentine heat with my bare feet on sun-warmed terracotta tiles on a rooftop. Now I sat in this storm, working, wearing a favorite knitted sweater and warm socks.

I built this business precisely so I could choose my office, whether a rural cabin or an ambient city.

That is the Handbag Office. It is not a desk. It is a decision. A laptop on a pillow. A cup of tea in a mountain storm or a cold glass of Prosecco on an Italian rooftop. The freedom to go north when your heart (or the heat) tells you to, and head south when a perfectly tempered caffè macchiato served with a beautiful smile at Gusta Bar on Via Maggio calls your soul.

In the beginning of September I will fly back to Florence for a new solo season. There are routines to reset, friends to hug, and Handbag Office work to tend to. But for now, the north has me. The flowers, the fireplace, the reindeer. My beloved husband. The work at my laptop continues and the dream continues. It just wears warmer clothes.

If you want to start designing your own solo season and build your own Handbag Office, I invite you to tag along. I show midlife women how to build the digital administration to make it happen.

Start with my free 7-Day "Next Chapter" challenge where you also get my free "But How?" toolbox (a complete guide to setting up your own Handbag Office infrastructure).

Begin here - I look forward to seeing you there ❤️🍋

Love from Pernilla,

between seasons in the Scandinavian Mountains 🇸🇪