Every summer of my life has been a feast of bees and ripe figs, endless olive groves and vineyards.Thyme honey flowing. White linen everything, salt on hair, salt on skin, the smell of sunscreen and rosemary on my sheets. Cicada symphonies, jasmine bushes blooming, the August full moon and ancient ruins. Family meals in countryhouses, rural weddings, dusty sandals.
Lately I’ve been longing for a different type of summer. Berry and mushroom picking and adventures in mystical forests. I want to carve on tree trunks, caress baby bears, spend a rainy night in a forest refuge, drinking hot tea and hearing fables. Discover a hut and befriend the old lady who feeds her ducklings. Bathe in a silent lake, dance around a bonfire wearing a flower wraith on Midsummer Day. I want sudden summer storms, forget-me-not bouquets, days and days of silence.