'What do you do in a Shetland winter?'

Working as a tourist guide I usually meet visitors who are here during summer. I tell them about our latitude, and how this gives us near constant summer daylight, that the gulf stream softens our climate, with fewer extremes than our sub arctic position would suggest.

When I talk about winter I try to convey the beauty that can exist in the months of darkness and storms. I describe seasonal patterns of work, how people adapt to weather but that in many ways life continues as normal with people going to work, to school and visiting friends and family. Despite these explanations, people remain curious, returning to this same question, "but what do you do?"

Over time I realised folk learn about the statistics, wind speeds and hours of daylight, and can’t imagine what it is like to experience this. They want to know how it feels to live here in all seasons.

I moved to Shetland in January, as gale force winds battered the islands and white tipped waves raced to shore in a flurry of spray. I arrived on the island of Whalsay after a bumpy crossing and I worried about what I might have let myself in for.

My very earliest impressions were of the light. The sun, low on the horizon cast golden beams across the winter landscape. Colours of the hill, dark brown peat, green moss and yellowing grass were brought to life through the intensity of this light. I felt like I was suspended in a perpetual sunset.

Although the islands are famous for their wild weather, we get many still days, with barely a breath of wind. Where the winter sun rises, reflected in calm seas, and herons stand by the water’s edge.

I love the sociality of these days between weathers. People take the opportunity to be outdoors, walking, tending their animals or gardening. Folk passing each other’s houses or crofts take a moment to chat, catching up on local news and sharing stories before continuing on their way.

Storms are common, with winds regularly reaching force 8 or 9 , often accompanied by rain or hail, moving horizontally at high speed.

This can make everyday tasks a challenge. Opening car doors, carrying shopping, and even walking in a straight line, require a little extra care and attention. Island weather captures the national imagination when stormy seas lead to ferry cancelations and social media fills with images of empty supermarket shelves. Although this may appear dramatic, meat, milk and bread from local producers keep village shops well stocked and residents always have supplies in cupboards and freezers so we are well prepared for disruptions.

Our wild weather can be beautiful. One of my favourite things is to walk by the sea during a storm. While turquoise waves crash over pristine beaches and salt glazed air holds the colours of sunset. Returning home, I light the fire and read folktales to the bairns as we listen to the storm rage outside. This light and weather is one of the reasons we have so many writers, artists and musicians as they find inspiration for their creative practice in our ever changing environment.

The long hours of darkness, and lack of light pollution provide the perfect opportunity to experience the northern lights, the mirrie dancers, as they are known in Shetland. In Shetland dialect mirr means blur and watching the aurora, the rays really do look like people dancing, the speed of movement causing their edges to blur as they merge with the darkness.

A few days ago I went for a walk around 9pm. Bright moonlight had transformed frosty ground into a diamond encrusted carpet. Above, stars stretched forever, the Milky Way like a river across the sky. I could see a faint green light moving along the horizon. Although the moon makes the rays less dramatic, I love these nights where aurora merges with moonlight, infusing the air around me in an otherworldly light.

Although incredible light and beautiful landscapes can make our winters a joy, this is only part of what makes it special here. The sense of community is always strong in Shetland but this feels particularly noticeable in the winter months.

I had my first son just two months after moving from Whalsay to Burra. Within days of his birth tiny handknitted jumpers and hats arrived, gifts from neighbours I had not yet met. In these early weeks a note arrived, inviting Rohan to the bairns' Christmas party. I had no idea what to expect from this event and walking through the door I was astonished at the sight before me.

Children of all ages were running around in a swirl of movement and Christmas jumpers. Groups of adults stood chatting while music played. I felt overwhelmed, the noise was incredible and I didn’t know anybody. Before long folk introduced themselves and Rohan was passed around, giving me a chance to have a cup of tea and mince pie. Then Santa delivered presents, one for every child. Each one a good quality toy, the kind of they keep for years.

This event has become one of my favourite Christmas traditions, a chance for all children in the community to get together. It is free to attend and the costs are covered by Sunday teas, held during the summer.

The weeks leading up to Christmas are filled with such festive events, ranging from small local gatherings to a huge Christmas parade and lights switch-on in Lerwick, where Santa arrives on the lifeboat and tinsel adorned Shetland ponies walk up the street.

And so, although Shetland winters may be long and dark, we have plenty to enjoy at this time of year. As the solstice approaches, and the season begins to change once more, we look forward the retuning light and the promise of spring.

Soon it will be Up Helly Aa season. Spectacular fire festivals that welcome the longer days and brighten the last months of winter.

Do you have more questions about life in the winter months? Check out our Winter in Shetland Q & A.