As June came about and the snow retreated to the mountaintops, the sun resided in the sky longer and longer, day-by-day. Sunsets lasted for hours as the sky changed from clear blue to brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow.
Like every year, Mrs. Larsen hung her mid-summer curtains. They were thick and heavy and able to block out most of the sunlight. If she didn’t, the Larsens probably wouldn’t get any sleep at all.
Mr. Larsen spent these longer days working longer hours. On June twenty-fourth, the daylight would last almost twenty-four hours. Instead of working, Mr. Larsen planned to take part in yet another celebration; however, people would celebrate this holiday all across Norway.
Cargo ships cleared their decks of old, broken pallets as dockworkers used forklifts to stack them at the end of the pier. Many of Bergen’s citizens chipped in, forming teams of two to lug them down the beach.
Mr. Larsen operated the crane that lifted the pallets into place. When he placed the last of the pallets, the stack was almost twenty meters high.
“That’ll do it,” he said to the volunteers as everyone admired their work.
Then, he returned home. The wood stack sat on the beach through the long light of day and into the evening hours, when hardly anyone could tell what time it truly was.
Bente and her family spent the majority of the day inside. Bente played all of her violin lessons as she waited for the evening to come. After a while, she turned to reading. Then, she turned to sleep, burying her head beneath her pillow. It was just a couple of hours before midnight when her little brother stirred her from sleep.
“Come on, it’s Saint Han’s Eve.”
They joined their parents for coffee and a light dinner. Mrs. Larsen had cooked salmon patties and made a light cucumber salad. They quickly ate and soon they were on their way.
By the time they arrived at the wharf, the beach was already crowded. Fishing boats, sailboats, and private schooners filled the fjord like sardines in a tin can. A large food tent sat right beside the pier. Fishermen were serving boiled shrimp and baked herring. Most of Bergen’s citizens were there to celebrate the summer solstice.
People left the tent for the wood stack at the other end of the rocky beach. Mr. Larsen joined with the town’s mayor, Mr. Johansson as he announced the beginning of celebrations and lit the fire.
A wad of newspapers stuffed into the lowest layer of the wood stack caught fire first. After a few minutes, the flames spread through the pallets until the entire pile was ablaze.
While the fire grew, people gathered around, eating shrimp just the same way as the Larsens had done before the Krabbelag, peeling it and eating it right by the surf. This time, though, it was mostly boiled shrimp.
The fire’s heat was intense. The ring of people around the fire slowly spread out, backing away from the fire as it burned hotter and hotter.
“Pappa?”
“Yes, Bente?”
“Why is it called ‘Saint Han’s Eve’?”
“It’s a celebration of St. Han’s birthday,” said father.
“But I thought it was for the solstice.”
“It’s a celebration of that, too. Remember how I told you that Viking traditions are often mixed into our Christian holidays? Saint Han’s Eve is one of those celebrations, too. The summer solstice was important for the Viking calendar.”
“The Vikings had a calendar?”
“They used the sun, the moon, and the stars to keep track of time. Vikings did not count days or weeks, or months. Even Viking’s ages were represented by the number of winters that passed. They used the moon’s position in the sky to plant seeds and harvest crops. They also knew that fish were more active during full moons. Sailors used these same lights in the sky before anyone knew about magnetic poles.”
Bente reflected on the ways of the old Vikings as she watched a Norwegian passenger ship leaving the port.
The bonfire burned through the night although few remained much past midnight. That included both the Larsens and the Bergs.
“What do you say we go skiing next weekend?”
“We couldn’t possibly,” answered Mrs. Larsen.
“Why not?”
“It’s mid-summer.”
“There’s plenty of snow up in the hills,” observed Mrs. Berg.
“I ski all year long,” added Ingrid.
“I think there is too much sunlight.”
“That just means more time to ski,” replied Mrs. Berg.
Mrs. Larsen just nodded. She did not have a way out and she knew it.
“Alright, next weekend it is,” said Mrs. Berg.
Bente and Ingrid and Mrs. Berg were all filled with excitement. Mrs. Larsen wasn’t quite sure what she felt. She’d never been skiing. In fact, she’d hardly done any of the outdoor activities she probably should have. After all, she was a Norwegian – an ancient Scandinavian by her heritage – a mix of Danish and Swedish and Finish, and, of course, Norwegian.
She looked up at the violet-magenta sky and down at her daughter. Bente’s face glowed with anticipation. Mrs. Larsen pulled her daughter close to her and planted a kiss in Bente’s thick blonde hair.
“Alright,” agreed Mrs. Larsen, “next weekend it is.”
Bente walked hand-in-hand with her mother and her brother. That is, until little Erik grew too tired to walk and rode horsey back on Mr. Larsen’s shoulders. Meanwhile, Bente walked with her mother.
“Where are your flowers?” asked Mrs. Larsen.
“I almost forgot.”
Bente searched along the footpath on her way home. Just like every other young Norwegian girl, Bente made sure to pick seven different types of flowers and carried them home.
Bente immediately went to her room. Just as every little Norwegian girl did that night, she tucked the flowers under her pillow. It was believed the flowers would help her dream of her future husband.
She unfastened the heavy black drapes from her window and looked outside. The intensity of the light was growing now. She watched the ships coming and going in the mid-summer sun as it climbed over the mountains.
Bente read a book for a little while. Then, she just lay back in her bed and stared at the ceiling, daydreaming about the ancient Vikings and their festivals for the midnight sun. Then, as she stared into the distance, she daydreamed about her future husband.
Late into the morning, she finally went to bed. Then, she closed her eyes and just dreamed.
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