The nights have become pale, ghost-like. I lay awake listening to the rustle of leaves, to tiny bells traveling from the other side of the lake, to the hoots of an owl. I know a low mist fills the mountains and forest outside, and nothing really sleeps anymore. There is always a light in the sky.
I wanted to write about the summer solstice when it was happening. But I felt too tired to. I felt a bit like this poem.
But I did watch the sunrise with my husband, and then listened to the rain coming down in the late morning and the rest of the day. My husband took some time off work and we spent a few slow days together. On my birthday (June 23) we went to the city to eat at a restaurant, and pick up some things from the health food shop. We wanted to go for a walk, but it was raining then too, and we could hear it drumming on the roof inside of the shop. The lady behind the counter smiled and wished us a happy St. John’s evening, which is traditionally celebrated here with bonfires.
Yesterday we went for a short hike in the mountains, and I thought of trolls and other mystical creatures as we walked down a wet grassy slope, back to our car. There was mist rising from the mountains, and the sky hung dark and low above them.
In a way, I’m saying goodbye to this place because we’re moving. We’re going to Slovenia, to the Alps, and the romantic, green beauty there. We’re leaving at the end of August…
And my book is still free, for a little while longer. You can get it here.