“At four in the morning my body bumped against the ceiling”
– Jim Harrison
Svenn taught me how to get coffee ready for when we were pulling on our boots to go milk the cows. First, start water boiling in the kettle, then tear open a bag of grounds and dump them in the rolling water. Wait a bit and pour, grounds and all, into a cup. “Kokekaffe” or cooked coffee is what he called it, as best as I could make out. We’d drink it hot and black along with a thick slice of bread spread with butter and salmon roe.
On the islands of Lofoton Norway, like anywhere above the Arctic circle, light is a season, not a daily thump and bump of day into night into day again. The summer sun rolls around the horizon like an infinitely slow roulette marble. Or the electron of a halo, shutter stopped.
At first, I thought I was forever done with night, that darkness was something I could shed and never regret. But after a bit, the constant light started making the cows and the dogs and even the humans a bit crazy. I had to tie a rag around my eyes to try and sleep, since light leaked in through the window blinds despite my best efforts. Eventually, even just knowing it was light outside was enough to keep me awake, sanity slowly leaching out the corners of my eyes. In the end, the only handhold to full blackout was to drink more and more of the Everclear we made in a still behind the barn. Svenn taught me how to do that too.
Who knew how much we crave darkness? How necessary for our shadows to lengthen, dissolve, and fill the sky.
Calls for light season
Hints of crazy spices gin –
Distilled summer sun
Can we live without both parts of ourselves? Must we anesthetize in search of the drunken malevolent? Sardonic title; appreciate the literal translation and the potential double meaning.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Seasoned with seasonings.
LikeLike
I thought you’d like the coffee too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on Frank J. Tassone and commented:
#Haiku Happenings #4: qbit’s latest #haibun for #dversepoets and Jilly’s 28 Days of Unreason!
LikeLiked by 1 person
At first, I thought I was forever done with night, that darkness was something I could shed and never regret.
I like all the detailing here, but for me that was the pivotal sentence in this. That’s where it suddenly becomes about more than just day to day life. I like it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. I was hoping that would work!
LikeLike
I think the haibun is your forte perhaps because it gives expanse to your ease of expressiveness – and then you percolate it with coffee grounds and Evian to make a haiku of gin. Refreshingly unique this light that drives us as mad as Arctic winters
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! Every once and a while that mix of narrative and poetry comes in handy. I think I’ve been using that “form” elsewhere, even if not formally wrapped with the Haiku. But longer lines, narrative(ish) voice, then try and bring it home.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah.. I know this well, and I think you have to see the complete darkness of winter to really appreciate the light of summer… (too much coffee can also be blamed for not sleeping). Stockholm has a few hour of almost darkness at this time of the year… in a couple of weeks we will go north to live in the light (and get a bit crazy)
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks, I hoped you would see this. Winter, yes, that is the other side of the coin as it were. A different, darker poem.
LikeLike
It’s fascinating to see that too much light can be a bad thing. I never thought I’d say these words: “ Bring on the darkness!”
I’m intrigued!
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s what I thought too! But after a while it was like “damn! turn it off”.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I can’t even imagine it!
LikeLike
Perpetual sunlight could be slow torture for those of us who need darkness to sleep (but I would like an arctic experience).
LikeLike
It was amazing, but at a certain point it was a bit much. Then it begins to fade and the northern lights come out. OK, then it was just dark and cold.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Appreciate you sharing the details 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice description of light as a season and the need for darkness.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love your haibun. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to live so far north (or south from here in Australia). The need for darkness and for deep sleep is so necessary for sanity. We process a lot of stuff during our sleep I think.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A fascinating narrative , so well expressed. Must share this with my Norwegian husband. Rather glad he doesn’t follow this recipe for coffee, though. And then there’s the Everclear.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes! It was called ‘hamebrent” or home burned. He’ll know. He’ll know the coffee too. I bet he gets a wistful look in his eyes over it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, he knows Everclear! Me too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s way too much daylight for me. I’d be crazy in about three days, lol. We used to make coffee that way, called it cowboy coffee
LikeLiked by 1 person
You lucked out with your roulette marble getting to experience such a sky, that everclear of “white night” (白夜), coffee grounds and all. I especially believe you were quite fortunate in being able to realize the importance of the shadow. Beautiful haibun, Q!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for such a well-penned and thoughtful response!
LikeLike
Midnight sun is a privilege. Too much of it may be too much to stomach. The body cannot take it and darkness is craved for. Our body apparently has a way to adjust to this. That is the beauty.
LikeLiked by 1 person
mhmp77 is aka kaykuala
LikeLike
The world is full of mystery. (K)
LikeLiked by 1 person
~ qbit, thanks so much for the post.Much thanks again. Really Cool.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Back for a closer look – this line jumped out, ” even just knowing it was light outside was enough to keep me awake, sanity slowly leaching out the corners of my eyes”
There are so many ways, in the literary sense, to go with that, but I always go to the literary. I never assume that anyone’s writing is personal experience, but I need to look at this, and your other Haibuns, as the travel journals that they are. At the bottom of this post in the WP suggestions was one you wrote on Christmas that I never saw. Makes me realize how much traveling you have done and what rich stories you have. That makes for great writing. But I still want to go with the literary of that line above! lol!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. I find it an interesting tension to write not knowing how it will be read. I assume the reader will have to work that out a bit. And fascinating when somehow the story seems just too oddball or fantastic that my attempts to write it from detailed veracity fail. Like with the M__ haibun. Yet of course I want the literary read as well, otherwise what was the point, LOLOL!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I went through phases with M__. At first I felt that the narrator was a victim who had a narrow escape from M__. Then I saw the intent of M__ being a victim and I felt bad for not feeling bad for him. Then I came back to the start – the narrator was a victim, either of M__ or those who shaped him. Full circle, I remain glad that the narrator (& R) escaped.
LikeLiked by 1 person
LOLOL! Thanks. Yes to all that. Will need to continue to think about how to come back to it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
“Distilled summer sun” is my fav.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This was fascinating. Must have been quite an experience in “eye-opening” of other countries. I like my night, sometimes better than day. You can have the coffee, and I’ll have what remains in the still!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hahaha! Great.
LikeLike
I found it a perfect format for your travels and details make me want to experience that long long days of summer in Norway or Iceland ~ Up North of Canada, we also have a place like this during summer, like more than 20 hours of light, then the reverse, during winter, it;s all pitch darkness ~ I think I can stand the long light outside but i will go crazy with the thought that its all darkness all the time. I believe a balance of light and night shadows are good for our mental wellness ~
Love the share & wishing you a happy summer ~
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. Yes, a balance is best for our sanity!
LikeLike
The sense of losing one’s sanity to too much light comes across really strongly, as do the desperate measures taken to sleep – so evocative. I too would be tying rags around my eyes.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. Rags worked for a while, but then things started getting a little wobbly, lol!
LikeLike
Sleep and dreams are so important.
I am not sure how I would manage without the distinction.
Though winter days often seem too long with little light.
🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person