Husky Home

25/03/2026

So… he’s officially retired.

The guy you usually see in the background.
The one building, fixing, repairing everything from dog yards to machines… and everything in between.

The one cooking your lunches.
The one making sure everything actually works.
So that I can focus on what I care about most – the dogs.

But the truth is… without him, none of this would be possible.
Not this place.
Not the standard we hold.
And definitely not the level of welfare the dogs have.

He’s the one who says yes to all my (sometimes very questionable) ideas.

The man behind the scenes.
And really… Husky Home wouldn’t exist without him.

I’m endlessly grateful.
Now he thinks he’s going into retirement…

But let’s be honest.
I’m pretty sure I’ll keep him busy.

Retired? Not on my watch. 😏

Happy retirement, dear husband

14/02/2026

She loves her place by the window.
From there, the mountains meet her gaze,
while nothing in the yard escapes her watch.

She doesn’t belong to me.
She doesn’t belong to the team.

We belong to her.

She embodies presence.
Stepping in when things call for it,
letting her stillness move through the others.

All with the deepest respect
from everyone around her.

She is safety itself.
For many, she has been there
since their very first breath.

Free to come and go,
to stay,
or to walk her own path.

And yet —
she stays close at my side,
knowing my thoughts
before they have fully formed.

I am certain she loves her life.
She follows her calling
and carries it with quiet devotion.

And we all know.
She holds us together —
animals and humans alike.

In her smallness
lives an immense greatness.

Lumi.

12/02/2026

End of an era

Right now, we have many older dogs and many young ones in the kennel.
It feels like standing in the middle of a shift.
The end of an era.
The beginning of a new one.

Slowly, gently, we are reducing the number of dogs here at Husky Home.
Not through quick fixes.
Not through rushed decisions.
But by matching each dog with the right human.
And when you know — you know.

Every one of the older dogs was born here.
They’ve lived their entire lives on this land.
For them, time is allowed to simply continue.
They get to stay. To age. To simply be.


They are the ones carrying the team.
My best lead dogs.
Gry. Jordgubbe. Odon. Lingon. Glöd.

Now I see them passing something on.
Not through training.
But through presence.

The quiet way they guide each young dog I place beside them.
The way they show the path.
The way they teach them to love the work.
To dare to lead.

Some things can’t be taught.
Hours on the mountain, in every kind of weather, live in the body.
That kind of knowledge doesn’t transfer quickly.
But they can give something else.
Calm.
Confidence.
Trust in their own ability.

And maybe that’s the most important thing of all.

Arin with Jordgubbe, the clown.
Glöd with bouncy Rut.
Yugh beside Jordgubbe — three generations in the same spirit.
Lingon with Prinsen
Gry with Lajka. Gry with Mammoth. Gry with Kalahari..

Gry!

The dog who never raises her voice.
Who leads by example.
Who helps every dog beside her grow into something more.

How we will manage without her, I don’t know.

But maybe that’s what she’s teaching us now —
to let go,
and trust that the knowledge already lives on.

08/02/2026

After 25 years in Kiruna, it feels as if it’s only this winter that I truly understand where I live — what it actually means to live in the Arctic.

December and January have been cold.
Not just a little cold, but that sharp, biting kind of cold.
Temperatures below minus twenty, often closer to minus thirty, almost all the time.
Clear air. No wind. The sun shining, trying to warm us, mostly just giving light.

Driving up onto the mountain, where the temperature is actually a few degrees milder, almost feels like a religious experience.
Something worth repeating, day after day.

What a privilege it is, to be able to do that.

Yes, it’s harsh sometimes.
My hands ache at night.
The cold settles deep into the joints.

But out there, you stay warm —
with the right layers, with movement, with work.

Guests from all over the world try to understand.
How can we live in this cold?
How can we stay outside hour after hour?
How can we take off our gloves and work with bare hands when the thermometer drops toward minus thirty?

And I never quite know what to answer.

Because this crisp, beautiful January air
gives me frost-nipped cheeks and ice in my hair,
and at the same time, a warmth that settles in my chest and seeps all the way into my soul.

As if the cold strips everything unnecessary away
and leaves something still and true behind.

I can’t be without it.
To live above the Arctic Circle.
In the shifting light.
In the seasons.

With nature,
following her rhythm,
and moving softly over Mother Earth.

29/01/2026

Mountain day

27/01/2026

Happy days on the trails 😍

21/01/2026

Giving back to the dogs on their terms.

We always teach our guests how to meet and greet the dogs on their terms. Then magic will appear ❤️

19/01/2026

3 firsts
1) Lajka in lead for the first time
2) Cosmos running in the team for the first time
3) seeing the sun for the first time on 2026

#

16/01/2026