The Spiced Indian Air by Night, or Your June Book of Days

Summer arrived here in Lake Worth about three weeks ago: where it had been warm but dry all through April and early May, suddenly one morning it was warm and humid and not dry and while I was hopeful for about a week that the dry air might return, by now I’ve stopped checking the weather forecast. There’s no longer any point to that. It’s Florida and this is our burden for the next four or five months: heat and humidity, of the constant sort. If you like predictability, you will love a Florida summer.

Summer sets in here and it takes a bit of getting accustomed to but then not long after comes St. John’s Eve and Old Midsummer, and these are days and nights I look forward to. We can count on a Midsummer bonfire at the Finnish-American Village west of town, and sometimes we will pick up a Midsummer feast to go from Johan’s Jöe, the Swedish coffee shop in West Palm Beach. I might read A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and we will sit down and watch some version of it, too, and the music from Felix Mendelssohn’s ballet will be on heavy rotation in our house. I’ll watch for nighttime blooms from the Guiana Chestnut tree in the backyard, blooms that pop open with a small explosion at about 9 in the evening and fill the thick humid air with fragrance: spiced, the same spice I imagine the Fairy Queen Titania described as she spoke about “the spiced Indian air, by night” in that same Midsummer Night’s Dream. If there’s magic to be found at Midsummer, it is found here in this strange green land, as easily as it is found in the Nordic lands where twilight runs its course through what little night there is in June.

Once Midsummer passes, I am pretty much done with a Florida summer… but alas, I make do, for what else can I do? There is beauty about it, to be sure. It’s just not always easy to remember to look for it.

For now, we are on the approach to Midsummer’s arrival: June has arrived, and the Midsummer Solstice here in the Northern Hemisphere comes in three weeks’ time, followed quickly by its accompanying holidays of St. John’s Eve on the 23rd and St. John’s Day on the 24th. All of these days are part of your Convivio Book of Days Calendar for June. It is, as usual, a printable PDF, a fine companion to this blog, and our gift to you. Cover star this month: an 1886 oil painting by Christian Skredsvig, called “Skt. Hans Aften i Norge” (or, in English, “St. John’s Eve in Norway”). In it, four folks are out on a boat on the still, reflective waters. It may very well be midnight, but there is no darkness, only light. How magical is that?

 

COME SEE US AT THE SHOP!
We’re open for Father’s Day Shopping (not to mention gifts for grads, too) TODAY: Sunday June 1, from 11 AM to 4 PM. Locals, please come visit: the shop is at 1110 North G Street, Lake Worth Beach 33460. We won’t be open very much in June, so this will be one of your few opportunities to come by this month. In the Creative Workshops department, we’ve got Kim Spivey teaching a new session of Collagraph Printmaking on Sunday July 27… this also happens to make a great gift. We love a gift that is an experience!

 

Top Image: “Skt. Hans Aften i Norge” by Christian Skredsvig. Oil on canvas, 1886 [Public domain via Wikimedia Commons].

 

 

Roses for Rosalia, or Your May Book of Days

Short and sweet today: It’s the First of May, and here is your Convivio Book of Days Calendar for the month. That’s all. More later, as the month progresses.

Image: “A Basket of Roses” by Ignace-Henri Théodore Fantin-Latour. Oil on canvas, 1890 [Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.]

 

Sumer is Icumen In

We were in Maine one month ago, Seth and me and our niece, and during our visit we had not one but two big snowstorms. There’s a very high likelihood that we were the only three people in the State of Maine at the time who were excited about the snowfall. We went sledding, snowmen were built, there were snowball fights, and there was a great deal of cheerfulness and laughter coming from the three visitors from Florida, whilst everyone we ran into there was thoroughly sick of winter. Spring, however, comes slowly to the Pine Tree State. Surely it has arrived there by now. Let’s hope so, anyway, for here we are now at April’s ending and with its close, the start of May. Tonight manifests another of the old stories –– the stories we tell each other year after year, and which never grow old, for the wheel of the year turns and each spoke is new and yet is the old familiar, too. And so here is tonight’s story: it is Walpurgis Night, the Eve of May. And with it, we reach the first step toward proper summer: tonight, we spring into summer.

The night is named for St. Walpurga, a saint who, in medieval times, had not one but two (like our Maine snowfalls in March) feast days each year: February 25, which is the day she left this earthly life, and the First of May, which was the date of her canonization in the 9th century. Her May feast day has actually not been celebrated in the Church for centuries now; nonetheless, St. Walpurga is forever tied to the transition from spring to summer, and we are the richer for it, for still we get to wish each other a Happy Walpurgis Night as we welcome May, and why would we deprive ourselves of saying words filled with such wonder? This night is particularly loved in Sweden, Finland, and Bavaria. In Sweden, this is a night for bonfires, for gravlax and sparkling wine outdoors under the stars. In many places, historically, this was a night, especially for the young and hearty, to stay out til dawn as winter becomes but a memory and as we enter into the gentler time of year.

In the Celtic tradition, it is Beltane. It is the cross quarter day that helps us spring to summer here in the Northern Hemisphere. In the wheel of the year, Beltane is the direct opposite spoke of the cross quarter day that comes as we fall into winter, which is Samhain, or Halloween. The fall into winter brings descent, life burrowing down beneath the earth, while the spring into summer brings ascent, life springing forth from the earth. It is an aspect of the everlasting mysteries of the planet and its place in the universe: we know these things so well, for we witness them each year with the planet’s revolution around the sun, and yet how these things have all come to pass still has the power to leave us breathless. (Again, the old stories.) The very names given to these days are shrouded in mystery, too, for their pronunciations are, for most of us, not of our tongue, and what seems apparent is not: Beltane is pronounced bowl-tan-a; Samhain is pronounced sah-win. Like the names of angels in ancient tongues, to speak the names connects us to a long forgotten past whose embers smolder still in the bonfires we light in the countryside, in the fire bowls we light in our yards, and even in the candles we illuminate in our homes.

I’ll be back tomorrow with your Convivio Book of Days calendar for May. For tonight, though, we wish you a good and warm Walpurgis Night. Welcome May! “Sumer is Icumen In,” as the medieval English carol goes. The days are getting longer and longer and lighter and lighter. There is no snow in the forecast.

 

Image: Seth recently purchased a couple of handmade ceramic tiles from artist Paul Bommer in the United Kingdom, whose work we’ve admired for a very long time. This tile is sitting in the corner cupboard in the kitchen tonight for Walpurgis Night and the Eve of May. You can find Paul’s more recent work (which is a bit more irreverent than his work in the 2012 link above) at Paul’s Instagram page: @paulbommer. (Seth also bought the tile of the bearded swimming man.)

 

COME SEE US AT THE SHOP!
We’re open for Mother’s Day Shopping (not to mention gifts for dads and grads, too) on Saturday May 3 from 11 to 4, and on Sunday May 4 from 11 to 3, and again on Saturday May 10 from 11 to 4. We’ve got two creative workshops coming up, too (which require registration in advance): I’ll be teaching Pure Bookbinding on Sunday May 4 (only two seats remain), and Kim Spivey will be teaching a new session of Collagraph Printmaking on Sunday July 27.