How Ukko Made the Storm

A tale of the Finnish gods, by Steve Baric

A very very long time ago, when the world was still young and the people in it still like children, the gods were taking a break. Ahto, the sea god, and his wife Vellamo, goddess of waters and the rains, had worked hard all through the spring to ensure the streams were filled to the brim for the salmon and the fields were lush and ripe for planting.

In their rest, the Sun was finally free to stretch and yawn after his long winter sleep. He planned to stay awake all day and night so he could fully revel in this freedom and enjoy the beauty and wonder of the world the gods had made.

But the Sun was greedy, and he found that when he shone brightly the world would get hot. And the hotter it became, the more the ground parched and reflected his light. And the more his beauty was reflected, the more vain he became, until he realized he had usurped the world from the waters!

The Sun came to believe he was more powerful than even the water gods, Ahto and his wife Vellamo! For the hotter he shone, the dryer the ponds became and the lower the rivers ran. “Surely,” thought the Sun, “I am more powerful than the gods! Only I can dry up their lands and parch their fields!”

At about this time, Tapio the forest god happened to be walking in his domain. He heard the sun bragging about his power, and thought something should be done about this. Tapio sought out his father, Ukko, and said to him, “Ukko, lord of the storm and the sky, and father of all the gods! The Sun, who has done such good work warming the world for my plants and trees, and helping the snow to melt so the fields can be sown, has parched the earth with his heat and brags that he’s more powerful than Ahto and Vellamo and all the gods!”

Ukko was gravely concerned about this, for so much work had already been done to make the world ready for spring. “Perhaps we should do something about this cheeky Sun. But what can we do?”

Tapio thought for a moment and said, “make a great storm to wash the heat from the earth whenever the sun gets too arrogant! Then he’ll learn what he may and may not say about the gods and his own strength.”

“That,” said Ukko, “is a splendid idea.”

With that, Ukko travelled to the sea. With his great voice, he called to Ahto and Vellamo and roused them from their slumber. He told them what the Sun had said, and what the Sun had done to the earth, rivers, waters and plants. Ahto was enraged, but Vellamo said simply, “I will raise the clouds from the sea, mighty Ukko, and you shall cleave them with your axe; which before you used to clear the earth of trees for the people to plant; and release the waters upon the earth.

“That,” said Ukko, “is a splendid idea.”

So Vellamo swirled her great hand above the ocean. And from the ocean arose a great mist. And that mist gathered above the seas and drifted on the wind towards the land.

When the Sun saw this great cloud gathering, he was worried, for he knew the gods were not happy. He hurried to draw the clouds over himself like a blanket, hoping to hide his face from Ukko and Ahto, Vellamo and Tapio. But they knew what he had done.

As the great cloud moved over the land, Ukko raised his axe, and with a mighty slash carved deep into the clouds...so deep, in fact, that the face of the cowardly Sun peered through for a brief moment, lighting up the whole earth and sky. The great god’s axe fell hard on the mountainside with a crash so great it shook the whole world!

Again, Ukko raised his axe and brought it to bear on Vellamo’s great cloud. And again it slashed the clouds open, revealing the Sun and letting his light through. And again it crashed to the ground, shaking air and sky and sea with its enormous clatter.

From the rifts in the clouds, water fell in torrents upon the earth. The fields sighed in relief. The forest stretched up its arms and danced in the wind. The rivers swelled and the ponds laughed with delight. Tapio clapped loudly as the animals of the wood came down to the streams to drink.

On and on went the scene for a whole day, Ukko carving and slashing at Vellamo’s wondrous clouds, the contrite Sun peeking through the way a naughty child peeks through a bedroom door to see if they’re still in trouble. The thunderous crash of the axe and the torrents of water seemed without end, until the clouds were drained of their precious water and Ukko became tired and thundered ever less.

And in the end, it was evening. The clouds wisped away, and the evening birds sang their lullabies. And the Sun, chastened, climbed down to his bed beyond the west. Ukko yawned and invited the stars and moon out to enjoy the clean, fresh night before settling himself down to sleep.

And that is why thunderstorms always come in the summer when the Sun is at his hottest, and he makes the mistake of thinking he can undo the work of the spring rains.