On Midsummer Night Mia and I were led to a star made of sky and trees.
Earlier in the day we had helped weave flowers around the May Pole. “May,” I learned, refers not to a month but but to the act of decorating one’s self, of making one’s self beautiful. A May Pole is a fancy-dress pole.
We danced, holding hands with the other celebrants. Several had crossed the border from Norway because Midsummer is not celebrated as fervently there as in Sweden. After the dance, Mia and I wove a crown of flowers and traded off wearing it for pictures by the pole.
An hour later we celebrants all went into the main building for a dinner of herring, potatoes, salad, and strawberry cake. We passed through the main door that is adorned with a five-pointed star made of sticks with straw binding each corner together. That star is a Forest Finn sign for good luck; bad luck is said to come to any house where the star has been mistakenly carved standing in a its head (the top point) instead of right-way-up with two feet on the bottom.
Late in the day but still in daylight – the semi-dark came only from about midnight until 2 – Mia and I walked onto the forest path behind our cabin whose name is Karhula, meaning The Bear. Ahead of us small birds sang. We walked toward them, and then yet further toward them. Our steps were cushioned by thick forest moss. On the sides of the path impressive rocks, each with its own mossy cap, stood among spruce trees.
After some time, the birds settled into the trees above us. We passed under them and onward until I thought to check my blood sugar. It was falling. I reached into my pockets, but I had left behind my store of carb. Mistake. No choice but to turn back.
The birds sang us back to the place they had settled. Above in the trees they called. At last we stopped to listen carefully and to look up to spot them.
Draped against the sky was a five-pointed star formed of spruce. From our vantage point, it stood firmly on its legs with a tiny head and long arms.
Mia remembered that earlier that day she had read from a Tarot card, “A mistake can lead to a blessing.” Blessing came from a mistake that caused us to turn back and from birds who sang with insistence.
Settled and filled, we returned to Karhula. We had seen three moose the day before, but no bear had shown itself to us in the forest.
Yet, we slept each night in Karhula, The Bear. And a star, woven over with bird-song, had opened above us in the forest on Midsummer Night.
