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She walked on until she reached the little bay where the gentle water of Lake Malaren lapped the reed-fringed shoreline. A swan was afloat to perfect the scene. Greta who helped on the monthly washing day was already there. In the old rock washhouse she had steaming copper tubs of water for soaping, scurbbing and boiling of the clothes which they would take to the lake for paddling and rinsing, then hang them on lines or lay them on the sweet-smelling grass to dry snowy-white. Greta was singing at her work and Johanna joined in the old Swedish Folksong. "Did you have a happy midsummer eve, Greta?" "Oh, that we did, we danced and sang all night long." "So did we. It is a day I like when we welcome the summer so precious in this land of long winter nights. It seems one cannot soak up enough of the sun. To go indoors at all seems a waste. It is such a festive holiday too; the houses look so gay with flowering branches around their doors and inside the perfume of lilacs and blossoms so lovely." After cleaning the house and days of preparation I thought I would be too tired to really enjoy it, but like Christmas, there is much joy in the preparation and the hard work is gone in the festival. I felt like a girl again as we decorated the maypole." They scrubbed in silence for a few minutes. "Shoemaker Mattsson is in Uppsala today?" asked Greta. "Yes, he took shoes to sell to the shops. Next month he shall go to Stockholm. He has some fine orders. Perhaps I will go with him." "Ja, Stockholm is such a grand city. I was there one time. A White city, and so many streets of water. I would like to go there once more," sighed Greta. "That you shall," replied Johanna, "Dreams will come true. There are great cities all over the world. It would be good to see, but to live...no, I never want to leave Krusenberg and Lake Malaren." 29 |
