wine not witches

This report comes through the haze of Midsummer aftermath.
The Swedes like to celebrate on the Friday after the solstice and we festively obliged. A lunch of pickled herring, new potatoes, strawberry cake, and light beer was shared with all at the farm owners' house. I then whisked off with the Belgians to the maypole and watched some pretty awkward (and remarkably subdued) singing and dancing. We drank some coffees, bought some old books, and listened to The Smiths on the drive back to the farm. An evening feast was prepared, more pickled herring consumed, a vodka toast somewhere in there, and many, many bottles of wine and beer were drained. Today was not an official day off at the farm but as of nearly 10:30 this morning, we have not done much.
Happy Midsummer to me!