Veneajelu begins in the hush of early morning, as mist rises quietly from a glassy lake at dawn. Pine trees along the shore stand silent under a pale northern sky. A small wooden boat — old-timbered, varnish-warm — pushes off from a family’s dock. The oars dip softly, water parts, then closes again in gentle rings. The air smells of wet wood and evergreen, cool but alive with promise. This is veneajelu. Not just a “boat ride,” but a breath, a pause — a slow unfolding of time where water, woods and sky compose a silent symphony. In this moment,…