Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals

Hello my dear friends,

As the winds blew me home last night and the wheat turned golden in the setting sun, I realised that the highlight of my European calendar these days is June 21st, midsummer. No doubt thanks to Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Nights Dream, the idea of magic under the fairy lights has appealed to my occasional romantic side.

South Africans don’t celebrate midsummer as much as we should although I understand why. It’s too close to Christmas and with the weather as it is, we basically don’t appreciate the sunny weather like northern antipodeans, and – this is part of my point today- our summer horticultural harvest is so damn constant, we take summer produce for granted.

In more Catholic countries up here in Europe, one of the religious festivals celebrated for weeks at a time, is the Feast of Saint John (the Baptist). I’ve been told that the Spanish celebrate with endless nights of fires and processions, celebrating the birth of the man who baptised Jesus. (And thanks to Wiki, I’ve discovered several other European countries celebrate it in various forms. Damn, got to get myself a set of Britannica encyclopedias)

However, on the flip side of the religious revelry, here’s a slightly different perspective:

I have a clever, well read agnostic friend who is more of a Mother Nature religion. She’s often suggesting the other side to the Christian celebrations we have, conveying what is currently becoming a modern expression of how Christianity took over pagan festivals. (I have to say, that as uneasy as this feels, I have grown to appreciate her point of view. Between Christians, Jews and Muslims, we appear to celebrate similar moments in the year, pretending we have nothing in common with each other, although we really do).

Before the word of Christ was spread across the world ruled by the Romans, we may have been sun worshippers, followers of the moon and stars and the rotation of the planet even if we didn’t realise the world was a ball suspended in a space we couldn’t comprehend. Before we were commercial giants of the hamster mill economy, we foraged, we cured, we stored our food for the cold season. We took our medicine from the earth (yes yes, life expectancy was less and all that, but that’s not my point here) and we lived through the seasons. And according to my earth loving friend, June 21st was when naturally growing herbs were at their most powerful. Not in a magical force kind of way, but in a natural sun blessed, dry heat, most natural kind of way. Apparently on the day of midsummer, when the night was shortest, and the day was longest, the herbs would be plucked from the earth, because this is when they were at their very best. (Weeds is what we might refer to them as in this age, but the wild sun-loving herbs is what they may have been 2000 odd years ago).

I have to confess, none of this has actually been researched by me. However, I absolutely love this version of midsummer. It appeals to so much of me: the heady scent of freshly picked herbs; how they grow into vast bushes if not constrained by a pot; how we as children should also grow like this given enough space and natural light; the very nature in that herbs need to grow like weeds for maximum affect and lastly, their role that they have in my life.

There is more to this than just herbs though. I have already written about how amazed I was by the birth of spring, right? After the long cold dark winter, watching when and where the sun starts appearing, how high it hangs up in the atmosphere; it all becomes something that I find myself doing much more these days. I literally seem to live for this moment in the year. Perhaps with our more open view of the countryside has made it more of a habit. Perhaps it’s an expression of gratitude for seeing the sun again. Perhaps I’ve become more grateful for all the weather patterns than I ever was back home. Midsummer really does have a type of magic to it.

As far as the French go, 21st June celebrate the official start of summer with a Fêté de la Musique , and it’s basically a celebration of music. I’ve spoken about if before, in our first summer here. Within the cities it has become an excuse to drink in the streets, play music wherever you want to, no matter how late the hour, and I guess, to celebrate life. It’s the start of summer after all! And while we have weeks of blissful sunny warmth ahead of us, it’s a little sad knowing the days start to shorten.

Last night I had to work (damn you bloody World Cup) so as a family we missed out this year. In the end I left work earlier than anticipated and I cycled home, weaving through the early crowds, sad not to be able to meander around and soak in the vibe as a family, but knowing well enough that we would have probably been rushed home by tired kids and ‘not a fan of big crowds’ hubby. Next year it will be a Friday. And I will do my very damndest to enjoy it 😉

Anyway, after that rather long soliloquy, and me getting eaten to shreds by mosquitoes, let me take my leave. I have a weekend of rugby and World Cup footie on my platter, (aka work) and although I have a weekend without family who are off to Lux. for cricket, I have other plans for farewell parties and a whole lot of sleeping in on Sunday.

From me in the lovely magical northern hemisphere to you wherever you may be enjoying the solstice, my best wishes.

Bless you until next time,

Moi,