For the Files: Summer Solstice (Proper), Family Style

"Glad Midsommar" by Nicholas John Frith. Look! Morels!
Image found at a fave blog, A Polar Bear's Tale. 

Cook for the Sun, bake for the Moon. This is what we do...

It has never been an intentional or conscious gesture, but rather something organically derived, this cooking for the Sun. As we prepared our dinner foods that evening, it occurred to me that this is just how we do these things. All our Solar observances involve creating a special meal together & then of course, sharing it. For the Moon, there is nothing I enjoy more than devising a sweet treat & pairing it with just the right libation, but now is the season of the Sun. Cook we must.

How this inadvertent way of doing things came to pass, I cannot know, but this is what we do. It works.

Half eaten.
Our Summer Solstice meal 2012.

This year, chile-lime shrimp skewered & grilled with fiery-coloured sweet peppers, pineapple & onions. Perch them on a bed of saffron rice & it all becomes sublime. A sip of chilled Vouvray for me, a Firefly cocktail for hubby. Just the four of us in the light of this blazing, tireless Alaskan summer Sun. Just right.

Summer Solstice cakes, 2012.

We talked about the Solstice, the gifts of the Sun & the mechanics of it all over our dessert -- angelfood adorned with fresh mango slices & a raspberry coulis. Little Lad was delighted with the Summer Solstice magnet I had found for him (last winter, ironically) at the Anchorage Museum. Simple & relevant. Together. This is what we do.

A small token for the Little Lad.
Illustration by Alaskan artist Bruce Nelson.

Children do not like to mind their bedtimes when the Sun does not set. I had every intention of completing the aforementioned working that evening -- after the wee folk were asleep -- but hubby had to return to work for an unexpected round of testing. In the interim, our babies behaved like fiends & by the time my better half arrived to help me build the fire, I was spent. Too aggravated to do productive work, I accepted the limitations of this life & embraced the joys. The working would find its perfect time later in the week. So, Hubby & I shared some mead & together we placed the offerings in what functions as our "garden." Freshly brewed dandelion tea & a cup of mead for the Sun. No foods, of course. This is Alaska. This is what we do... & don't do. 

Offerings in the "garden." Summer Solstice, 2012.