Midsummer’s eve. I’d like to say it was rather untraditional this year, but it is impossible to escape tradition to any meaningful extent when it comes to occasions like these. There was the traditional lunch with pickled herring, chives, sour cream, boiled eggs and boiled potatoes, the traditional surplus of alcohol, the traditional toasts with the traditional singing - ah! I did not toast with the traditional snaps or nubbe which really is a social faux pas when you think about it. My mother even lured me out to pick wildflowers, a tradition I’d forgotten since I was a kid and something I used to do all the time. Seven different types of flowers under your pillow in order to dream about your destined one, they say. However, both me and my mother are more pragmatic (and allergic) rather than romantic, so instead we sat on the porch and arranged three big bouquets, to put in the house, on the porch, and in the outhouse (as you can see on the picture above). Lady’s bedstraw and jasmine gives a (much needed) pleasant smell.