It's the longest day of the year. The sun is rising beyond our pine trees. We are getting warm winds from the west and the morning is filling with humidity. It's promising to be a sultry day at the beach. Yet the longest day is filled with anticipation and a promise of sweet love.
We are sitting in our summer kitchen drinking Gevalia coffee and reminiscing about the many Midsummer Eves spent in Sweden. We were young then. We stayed up all night dancing and watching the sun making its orbit. Nowadays, it's an accomplishment to cover our maypole with greenery, flowers, and hanging the two wreaths.
On our way in, my husband cut a long sprig of honeysuckle and handed it to me. It smelled so heavenly sweet. I weaved it into my blond hair and gave him a kiss on his cheek. If I were a young maiden, I would pick seven wild flowers to put under my pillow so that I would dream of the love of my life who would come and sweep me off my feet.
I cannot find seven wild flowers on the Back Forty but I don't have to pick any flowers tonight. I have already been swept off my feet. Tonight we will share a bottle of Carolina Wildflower, a white table wine sweetened with honey. It's from the Hinnant's Winery. Ahh! How nice! Here is my clover, and honey suckle as well as jasmine--prominent features of this Carolina treat.
For dinner, I have made Swedish meatballs with a creamy brown gravy. I plan to serve it with mashed potatoes and lingonberries. You may get this meal in any IKEA, the Swedish home furnishing store.
In the meantime, I have set the table with the most beautiful purple and violet colored cloth, showing the colors of Nordingra, Sweden. We are going to have a small smorgasbord for lunch starting with herring served with small new potatoes from our garden and cooked with plenty of dill. On new clean plates, we'll have round crisp bread with margarine and Kalle's delicious creamed smoked roe.
Let's raise our glasses of wildflower wine and make a cheer for the solstice. I wish you a Happy Midsummer's Eve and great weekend..
Love, the meatballs have to wait until tomorrow. My plans for the rest of this long and wonderful Midsummer Eve are . . . .