Midsummer, Johnsmas, Simmerdim
Like the brightest side of the coin…
Two years ago, I went climbing a hill to light a candle at midnight for my [then] antipodean sister. And wrote a piece called Signals… It seems like yesterday.
Simmerdim, where the sun dies to be re-born within a matter of a flash. What a moment. Our nights have turned either azure or titanium according to the humour of the sky… Fog remains a summer feature… Odin and Thor play hide and seek. It is a magical moment on this latitude. And yet, I still remember vividly my prayer flags floating so freely in this hopeful Vernal Equinox. Weeks have vanished through that great vaccum of time – 1 1/2 weeks away from “freedom”!
The Johnsmas celebrations now behind us, my heart is torn between the joy of being part of a fully alive island, splashed in a myriad of colours, sounds, sights & scents so unique to this time of year and the thought of sliding back down towards the Autumn Equinox that seems so far away at the moment…
I want to block the latter and celebrate that simmerdim so dear to my nordic heart! Just tasted the magic of the foy at Victoria Pier in Lerwick (A Flavour of Shetland) during the Hamefarin celebrations… And the party’s not over! Shetland is magic and I cannot wait to share it with the rest of the world 🙂
My world is a beehive… Let’s make the most of our 19 hours of light!
With many thanks from Poet and friend Juliet Wilson at Bolts of Silk 🙂
simmerdim at Bolts of Silk
Last year, Scotland proudly celebrated “homecoming” – calling all sons and daughters of Scotland’s decendants to join in a nation’s festival of raison d’être.
This year is Shetland’s version, Hamefarin.
The most norherly edge of the realm has been toiling to host the archipelago’s festivities and Lerwick’s harbour has become a magnet where twangs in tongues flirt with summer an simmerdim.
The world is anchoring in Shetland on each bollard. And on the eve of Johnsmas, this feeling of belonging to an island takes an extra dimension. The Auld Rock is well accustomed to welcome the wider world… This weekend marks our passage through summer and marquis have already been erected at Victoria Pier to give and share a taste of Shetland at a time traditionally asssociated with smiles and merriment.
Only a few centuries back, the Dutch fishing fleet was assembling in Bressay Sound at the then start of the herring fishing… And as we reel back centuries further, hanseatic and Viking worlds also anchored in the bay of mud.
Today, yachts from both sides of the North Sea gather for the Bergen Race, as masts joust in the safety of the waterfront. Double, treble lines of sailing crafts animate many hearts.
As night wanders in azure blue, Shetland celebrates life on Earth.
walking on sand or on flagstones
Smiles are just like foosteps on flagstones – they come and go, tattooed and washed off by water…
The more I walk parallel to the Bressay Sound, the more I seem to lose myself among ghost steps and wish I could find ancient prints.
How many soles have found their twins? How many perished in the mud? …Leir Vik. A place where stones have found their meaning in water. Warehouses built to suit merchants.
And yet stony staircases lead nowhere.
One way to deal with keeping dry or free of mud. Waterstairs
Behind close doors we undo deals and forge new bonds. We unload goods to please our minds.
… Most probably developed from Old Norse hlað-berg, a projecting pier or (flat) rock where a ship is laden. These were houses and warehouses sitting on their own piers so that goods could be loaded and unloaded directly from the boats.
The last time I wandered along, I found a gannet without life washed on the shore. The tide was dancing with the dead… And saw the sadness in blue eyes.
in images… emanating from pixels
Filed under 60N, Arcania, atlantic, colours, earth, geopoetics, home, images, north, poetry, roots, shore