We had our Luciafest yesterday, with appropriately cute tomten and tinselly circlets on the angels. The Wyman granddaughters figured prominently. Neither are old enough to be among the white-robed maidens who surround the Lussibruden, the Lucia Bride, but they are awaiting their chance eagerly. All the high-school girls who are in the Lucia Court every year have been eyeing their chance since they could walk. You get to look good, marching in slowly with candles in your white robe. We went for the flame risk with the crown of candles this year, as we usually do.
We make a big deal of explaining the home ceremony every year, though I don't know if anyone actually does it. The eldest daughter in the household rises before dawn and puts on a white robe with a red sash...
This always sounded rather hard on the eldest daughter, getting up in the cold dark on what was then the Solstice to make saffron buns and coffee. Poor girl. It reminded me of how hard life would be out on the farms in the old days. I suppose it's only once a year, and you do get to be the star.
An older Swedish lady pointed out to me quietly last night that sunrise in Stockholm is at 8:45am.