Roses glow. Something about the edge of the day before our sprouts and blooms vanish into the dark night sky…something about that light, that aura that illuminates the embryonic, unfurling leaves and how the petals meddle with the light. Scattered particles like a blue halo bathing gracefully bending petals…a delicious state of youthful beauty! This anticipation and quiet dramatization of the day, this swelling heart of a child full of Spring and Summer memories aching with tension until the last hour of school breaks for that windowless session of learning…this is how cotyledons must feel after the first half of the year comes to an end.
Yes, we survived winter and now our universe is filled with great expectations that involve bare feet and exposed shoulders. This light gives me hope…for me after three quarters of the day is gone, I still need to be clever and energetic and somehow stir the imagination of my youngest bear. So as our home softly exhales the accumulated heat of the day with windows wide-open, waiting for the dark and it’s refreshing breeze, we prepare a mini-feast for a fika—a cherished break in the day to chat over coffee or tea and a home baked sweet. A Swedish tradition that reflects the thought of slowing down and to appreciate things we take for granted, like our connection to each other, our connection with nature and the universe. It’s a story, an endeavor to move toward each other, a simple “hej,” hello,” or “hola.” Life isn’t simple but a fika can be. I’ve been making apple and pear crumbles lately for our fika’s…it takes a quarter of an hour to brown some butter and simmer in the fruit, top it with some forgotten granola tucked in the back of the cupboard and while it bakes prepare the tea or coffee. Baby Bear loves to stir in honey with her tea. I love how after a little treat, she heads to her little galley and prepares her meal while I, after a surge of caffeine and sugar, start the evening meal in the blue halo of light that envelopes my kitchen. How will you curate your fika?