In Sweden, Midsummer is a huge deal. It’s one of our biggest holiday, rivaled only by Christmas, and as with Christmas we celebrate on -Eve and not on -Day. So when you’re reading this, I’m probably busy celebrating Midsummer.
In a non-covid year, this is what the celebrations would look like:
This year’s celebration will include only me and the hubby. But there will still be food, and snaps, and maybe a drinking song or two. If you’re really lucky, I might post a picture or two over on Instagram.
And if you’re more curious about Swedish midsummer, make sure to pre-order my Midsummer romance, Flowers Under My Pillow that’ll be released tomorrow.
Smiling brown eyes. A dark beard. Dandelions. Sunny, happy dandelions.
For thirty years, Frode’s had the same dream. Every Midsummer’s Eve since he was a kid accompanying his sister to pick flowers to put under his pillow, he’s dreamed of the same man. A dream he never shares with anyone, that makes him wish for impossible things…like true love.
Then one Midsummer’s Eve, the man of Frode’s dreams stands before him in the flesh. Both men recognize each other despite never having met in real life. Both men are instantly drawn to each other and want to know more.
“Who are you, Viljar? Are you even real?”
Their questions are many but do the whys and the hows matter? Or should they allow the Midsummer magic that brought them together to lead the way into each other’s arms? Into each other’s hearts?
Traditional Swedish folklore tells you that if you pick seven kinds of flowers in silence and put them under your pillow on Midsummer’s Eve, you’ll dream of the man you’ll marry.