It’s midsummers eve. This is a really big deal in Sweden, almost as big as Christmas and conveniently located exactly halfway between this Christmas Eve and next.
This is the day that we put flowers in our hair, dance around giant phallic symbols a.k.a May poles and we celebrate the short but magical Swedish summer. Children laugh and eat strawberries, adults laugh and get drunk and teenagers roam around in search of the perfect party. The weather becomes our dictator, dreams are shattered and all imaginable Nordic stereotypes are fulfilled.
Theres something about the word midsummer that has always given me a little pang of seasonal angst. Tonight is the shortest night of the year and that inevitably takes us on the journey towards darker times. Before summer has even properly started.
Growing up abroad we didn’t have that much tradition around midsummer and I’ve had some pretty bad experiences since moving to Sweden when too many expectations blew up in my face. Also some really good ones though and hope to make some more in years to come.
Took some much needed time for myself after herring and salmon had been consumed and walked the dog in a nearly deserted woods. Hello sneakers!
