A Very Special Midsummer's Eve

Across the Fence #241

This past weekend was Father's Day and also Midsummer's Eve. Erik, Amy, and her boyfriend, Tim, were here to spend the time with us. And, we can’t forget their dog, Sweeney, a German Shepherd/Collie mix, who is six months old and full of pep and vinegar, not to mention, corn, wood chips, grass, moths, June Bugs, and I dread to think what else she may have eaten.

Saturday was perfect weather and we decided to build a bonfire in the firepit in our back yard to celebrate Midsummer’s Eve, a tradition that dates back to the time of my Viking ancestors.

Last summer, I dug a pit about two feet deep and five feet in diameter. I lined it with stones from the foundation of our old barn that was torn down a year ago. It’s nice to have those stones still be a small part of the farm. I put gravel in the bottom of the pit. It turned out rather nice, even if I do say so myself; a perfect place for a fire on this special evening.

The celebration of Midsummer’s Eve has been linked to the summer solstice since ancient times. People believed that midsummer plants, especially Marigolds, had miraculous healing powers and picked them on this night. Bonfires were lit to protect against evil spirits, which were believed to roam freely on this longest day of the year, when the sun turns southwards again as the days become shorter. In later years, witches were also thought to be on their way to meetings with other evil and powerful beings, though this is not the case today.

In Scandinavia, the Midsummer celebration originates from the Pagan times before Christianity; it was celebrated as a sacrifice time in the sign of fertility. I can assure you, no human or animal was sacrificed to the gods during our celebration, although a few marshmallows did go up in flames. I guess we could call that a sacrifice of sorts.

You can’t sacrifice marshmallows without a bonfire, and you can’t have a bonfire without wood. I’d been stockpiling all sizes of sticks and scrap wood. Sweeney helped us carry sticks to the firepit and had to chew on many of them in the process. We built a pyramid, beginning with small twigs, piling larger ones on top, and finally scraps of old boards stacked around it to form the pyramid. This would be an old Viking style bonfire.

The easy way to start a fire in such a pile, is to crumple some paper and other flammable material and light it with a match. You soon have a roaring fire. But that would be the easy way and anyone can do that. Tim wanted to start the fire the “Survivor Man” way. He split open a piece of “punky” wood and made a small hole in the piece. He put a small piece of cotton from a medicine bottle in the bottom along with some wood chips. Then he took a Swedish FireSteel (I’ll call it a Norwegian FireSteel for the sake of my ancestors), and struck the two pieces together, producing a spark to ignite the cotton and wood.

Be advised, if you plan to try this at home, it’s not as easy as it sounds. You need a lot of patience and breath, especially when it’s been raining for several days and all the wood and grass is not very dry. It takes a lot of blowing on the wood to get it to smolder and finally ignite into flames. After many minutes of huffing and puffing, a little smoke began to rise. He added more small shavings and continued blowing. After about twenty minutes a flame finally appeared. As I said, you’ll need lots of patience. Many people would have given up and struck a match, but not Tim.

As the flames grew bigger, he carefully inserted the burning chunk of wood into the center of the pyramid. It didn’t take long before flames were licking and climbing their way up the stack of wood. We soon had a flaming pyramid that would have made our Norwegian ancestors proud. I suspect it also chased away any evil spirits that may have been roaming around the back forty and our yard on Midsummer’s Eve. If it worked in ancient times, it should still work today!

It was very peaceful sitting near the fire, seeing the flames climb toward the sky, as we watched the sun set among beautiful, pink clouds, while the birds and frogs serenaded us from nearby trees and fields.

We called my brother, Arden, and he, Jan, and Kassie, joined us and brought marshmallows that we sacrificed on the fire. Some people like their marshmallows burned, not just browned. It was a peaceful, wonderful evening as we all sat and visited while we watched the fire. The clouds finally began to clear out and stars became visible all around us. It was a great way to celebrate Midsummer’s Eve. When the fire finally died down, we looked into the firepit and the burning embers were glowing and shimmering like molten lava in the bottom of the pit.

As we were walking back to the house in the dark, I thought to myself, we were all making memories for the future on this Midsummer’s Eve. What a great memory it will be to look back on.

Life Under the Maple Tree

Across the Fence #240

I don't see many people sitting in the shade of a tree these days. I think air conditioning and television changed tree sitting and many other things too.

When I was young, and I have to admit that was before we had air conditioning, we did a lot of sitting and relaxing under the maple trees in our yard after milking was done in the evening. It was a family time, when Ma Dad, Grandma Inga, and us kids all relaxed together. The adults sat at the picnic table or on lawn chairs. Us kids usually sprawled out on the cool grass. The dogs and a few barn cats were a part of the gathering too.

There was always a breeze blowing across the prairie, even on the hottest summer day. It may have been a hot breeze, but it was better than nothing. Even with all the doors and windows open, the heat inside the house became almost unbearable on hot, humid, summer days. The heat from the wood cook stove added to the misery. I don't know how my mother did it. At the time, I never gave it a second thought, but now when I look back, I really appreciate all the struggles she and all the housewives went through in the summer heat.

Now, even with air conditioning, people will say, "It's too hot to cook, lets go out to eat." Very seldom did we ever eat out. If we did, it was a trip to the root beer stand for a hotdog and root beer. That was a real treat for everyone. You got served in your car. A carhop would take your order and return with the food on a tray that fit on your car window. It's hard to find a place like that any more. I guess you could call root beer stands the first fast food restaurants.

But I’m sailing up another fjord here. Lets return to the shade of that maple tree. I mentioned last week that I never see June Bugs any more. That’s where I remember watching them swarming around the yard light when it got dark… thousands of them. They also covered the gravel driveway at times, and would be squished if a car drove over them.

The air was also alive with activity as daylight faded and the stars started appearing. It wasn’t unusual for bats to swoop through the air and dive bomb us at times. My mother didn’t care for them. She was afraid they would land in our hair or bite us. Fireflies, also referred to as Lightning Bugs, were also a part of our evenings. I’m still fascinated with how they can “light up.” I guess without TV, those evening activities were our entertainment.

Sometimes there would be conversations under the tree about what had gone on that day; how the crops were doing, what had to be done the next day, what news Dad had heard while at the feed mill, or some news Ma had heard while talking to her mother or one of my aunts on our party line phone. It was under that tree, at the end of the day, that the family talked to each other after a busy day. Sometimes we just sat or lay back in the grass and watched the activity around us in the evening air. We also listened to all the sounds that seemed to be amplified as darkness set in. I remember the creaking of the windmill, pigeons softly cooing in the cupola of the barn, the rustling of the leaves in the tree above us as the birds settled down for the night, and cats near the barn fighting over the last of the milk that was their allotment for the evening.

Evenings under the tree were not without discomforts. The mosquitoes also liked those evening hours and could make life miserable, especially after a period of wet weather. Flies and other winged insects also liked to hang around in the coolness of the shade. Those flies were real pests in the house. They always found a way inside. If you’re my age or older, you should remember those fly ribbons hanging in the house. We even had one over the kitchen table. Thinking back, that wasn’t the most appetizing during meals, when flies caught in the ribbon made frantic buzzing noises as we were eating. But like the lack of air conditioning and TV, it was a part of our life and we never thought it shouldn’t be hanging there.

Life seemed simple, good, and complete at times like that, with the family all gathered together. We didn’t miss air conditioning because we had never experienced it. This was how life was supposed to be in the summer. It was often hot and humid, and you endured it as best you could. I think the summer days seem even hotter now because many of us are used to working and living in air conditioned buildings. When we do venture outside, we notice the heat that much more.

I know most of us wouldn’t care to go back to those days. In retrospect, they seem pretty primitive by today’s standards. But sometimes, I remember how peaceful those evenings were, lying under that old maple tree, listening, observing, and contemplating the world around me… and I miss them.

The Hills Are Alive...

Across the Fence #239

It's time to get off the couch, leave the computer behind, turn off the cell phone, and go for a walk. At this time of year the hills are alive with the sounds of life. Not just the hills, but also the trees, the fields, and the streams.

I was out walking the other evening and was amazed at all the sounds I heard as the day was winding down and darkness was setting in. The sights you'll encounter on those walks are also great. You can't capture a sunset or the clouds and just watch it on a nature program on TV. You need to experience it, live and in full color, with all the sounds of nature surrounding you.

The recent rains have nurtured the grass, trees, flowers, and yes, even the weeds, and made them come alive in volume and in color. The wildflowers are also growing in fields and ditches along the back roads. If you're not able to walk, at least jump in the car and take a drive along those back roads and enjoy the scenery. While you're at it, roll the windows down and listen to the sounds around you. When I'm out driving, I see most cars with their windows rolled up tight. I imagine the radio blasting and their air conditioner is in use. That is, when and if, it ever warms up enough to use it. Temperatures as I write this, are still very cool for the second week in June, and a jacket is often needed. Gardens have even been nipped by frost in the evenings, but that's another story.

I have another suggestion too. If you have children or grandchildren, take them with you. Make sure they leave their cell phones behind. You don't want them texting or making and receiving calls when they should be concentrating on, and learning to enjoy nature. I think it's the responsibility of every parent and grandparent to instill a love of the natural world around them in the children.

It will be Father's Day the weekend after this is published. I know children are supposed to give their father a gift on this day, but lets turn the tables on who's doing the giving. As a father, one of the best things you could give them, is to instill an appreciation for nature and everything associated with it... those sights, sounds, and smells. Take some time to go on a walk with them, examine some wild flowers, listen to the birds singing, watch how the wind blows through the tall grass, listen to the sound it makes, hear how the wind gently rustles the leaves of the trees, and watch butterflies darting among the wild flowers.

If you have a creek nearby, take a walk along it. If you like to fish, take a fishing pole along and find a nice spot to sit. Attach a red and white bobber to your line, a Night Crawler to your hook, and toss it in the water. Now sit back, relax, and listen to the water as it flows over the rocks. It's a gentle, soothing sound. If a fish comes along and takes the bobber under, set the hook and have some fun. Even if you don't catch anything, you're going to have a wonderful outing. If you take you child or grandchild along, it's an experience they'll remember for a long time. What a wonderful gift.

If it's late in the day, stop and observe how the sounds and colors change. See how the shades og green all merge together and become one mass instead of individual trees as the light fades. As darkness takes over, the wind dies down and leaves become quiet. The tall grass no longer sways in the breeze like waves on an ocean. The busy day, full of sounds, is winding down and the sounds of the night take over. You might hear Killdeer still calling to each other before settling down for the night. If there are still cows where you live, you might hear them mooing softly to their calf in the distance. The crickets come alive with the evening. I could sit and listen to their symphony of music for a long time.

If there are fireflies around you, join the kids as they try to capture them in a jar. No kid, young or old, should go through life without chasing fireflies at least once. That goes for butterflies too.

This is June. Whatever happened to June Bugs? We used to have thousands of those big bugs swarming around our yard light on early summer nights. I haven't seen one for years, but they were a part of my life every summer when I was young.

Those are the type of experiences you remember; the simple pleasures of enjoying the natural world around you. You can't experience those things by sitting on the couch watching TV or playing on your computer. It's time to get up, grab the kids, and go outside for a while. This Father's Day, make it a priority. While you're at it, you might even build a bonfire in a firepit. After all, it's also Midsummer's Eve, when the Norse tradition is to celebrate the longest day of the year with a big bonfire. Enjoy it.

Yes, the hills are alive with the sounds of life, and all the sights and smells that accompany it. Don't miss it!

Learning About Life and Death

Across the Fence #238

Children who grow up on a farm, learn about life and death at an early age. Life comes and goes quickly on the farm. It was a part of our everyday life.

My friend, John Cotter, who lives in Middleton, Wisconsin, comes to Vernon County to fish and hunt. Whenever he's in the area we get together for lunch and coffee at Borgen's Cafe and often come up with new topics for this column. During his last visit he brought up the idea that country kids learn the cycle of life a lot sooner than city kids. He said he remembered when pigs had their litter every spring. They would set up gates to try and give the newborn pigs some safety, but it was not always successful. The sows would often lie down on the newborns, killing them.

The same was true for other farm animals. We saw them being born, but often witnessed their deaths too. Calves, chickens, cats, and dogs, all became a circle of life to us.

We often watched as a calf was born and marveled at how new life began. Within a short time of emerging into her new surroundings, the calf would stand on wobbly legs and soon be sucking and enjoying the first meal of warm milk from her mother. Sometimes there would be problems with the birth and we'd watch as Dad pulled the calf from darkness into the light of day. I learned to help him with those difficult births when I was in high school.

Sometimes there were problems and a new calf that had just been born would die, or would become sick and die within a week or two. We learned that sometimes the circle of life is very short. It became a part of life on the farm.

We had dozens of cats on the farm. We would find and hold them shortly after they were born. Sometimes we even watched as they were born. Some of them became friendly and others always displayed a wild streak. They only came around when milking was done and milk was poured into an overturned can cover for them to drink. Farm cats learned to roam the fields searching for a meal. An unsuspecting mouse or a bird that had let their guard down, became their meal. The death of mice and birds also became a fact of life on the farm. We learned that one must die so another might eat and live.

Some animals became a part of our meals. Cows and pigs were butchered for meat, and chickens were often killed and became a meal for us. Today, people who consume meat, seldom do the butchering chores. The act of killing your own food has become alien to most people.

The fate of some farm cats also fell into our hands. The same cats that loved to roam the fields sometimes became a victim of the hay mower. They tried to hide as the tractor and mower approached and found themselves in the path of the sharp, deadly sickles. We had many cats that lost a leg or even worse. Some cats survived to prowl around on three legs. Others had to be destroyed because they were so badly injured. You hated to kill them, but it was the humane thing to do and it became a part of life on the farm.

Dogs were not immune to tragic death either. We had several dogs that were hit and killed by cars. Those family pets were the hardest deaths to accept. We had raised some of them since they were pups. When I was in early grade school, our dog, Tony, followed me toward Highway 14 when I walked to school one day. When I got home that evening, I found out he'd been struck by a car and killed. It was a hard death to take for a young boy. I also felt responsible because he had followed me. My Grandma Inga, rocked me in her lap that evening while I cried and mourned Tony's death. Like all farm dogs, we buried him and put a crude marker on his grave. Learning to say goodbye to good friends like that, was a part of learning to accept death, do our grieving, and then move on with life.

Another of our dogs was also struck and killed when I was in 8th grade. My mother was baking an Angel Food cake and was short on eggs. She had me walk over to Midtlien's, our neighbors, to borrow some. I had to cross Highway 14. Our dog followed me. I told him to wait. But as I was coming down their driveway, he got up and ran across the road to meet me... right into the path of a car and was killed. I wouldn't eat Angel Food cake for a long time after that.

Life and death is learned about, early and often, when you live on a farm. You watch new life come into the world, but death also becomes a part of life. They are not separate. Life and death are both part of the same circle. When country kids grow up watching life begin and end, it helps them understand how fragile and precious life really is.