Up in the North it is a different world. The sky is bright. Dark forests open up on the slopes of the mountains, and after the rain, the mountains crack and give pass to countless streams. Stay alone in the forest and you will hear the sounds of birds’ wings, and the trees growing. The villagers live in the valley. It’s still dark when they meet in front of the pub with their horse team. Leaving the village at sunrise they bring axes, saws, and metal cables. Even though the Northern country is mystical, the village Répáshuta and its local woodcutters are real. There are four men, four different characters, four different crafts, and finally four different seasons. They slowly ride their sled into the forest, light a campfire and begin to do their jobs, cutting and bringing down the trees. These are the men from the Northern country. Inserted pictures return to everyday events of the other seasons, depicting mornings full of worries about their homestead. The men lead long talks, and everyday activities are depicted with a courtly sense of visuality. Subtitles inform about the history of the village and its folk, and carry on through the whole movie. We set out on a pilgrimage in search of the woodcutters’ souls, their inner world hidden under the shell of daylong toil. Living their lives in the rhythm of the village, they follow local rituals. Time is not relative. They don’t break away from the time they live in. Their lives and destinies are the same as the falling trunks and growing trees. That is the entire silent joy of the documentary.