The Simmer Dim in Shetland
For as long as I can remember we have marked the passing of the longest day; whether that be a midnight walk to the top of a hill to watch the sun set and rise again, eating freshly caught mackerel straight from the sea, or a camping trip in a quiet valley listening to the call of the birds and watching as the mist rolls in over the hills like frosting.
Midsummer is the time around the summer solstice when the days melt into the night and the evenings remain still and light as the earth is bathed in a milky light which never really turns to darkness.
At the heart of midsummer is growth, light and abundance. At 60° North, light is cherished and celebrated, lifting us from winter, removing us from the dark, and providing abundant autumn harvests.
To the Norse settlers who found their home in Shetland, midsummer was about Baldur, the god of light and son of Odin and Frigg who is celebrated as one of the best-loved gods of Asgard. The celebrations marked his death and observed the height of the sun’s power. Today we still celebrate the power of the sun, although thoughts of Baldur have mostly been forgotten as Christian traditions replaced the Norse influence.
For me, midsummer is a gift, a fleeting moment in the calendar year that I hang on to, extracting every last ounce of pleasure from its core so that, maybe, in the depths of winter, I can think back and smile in remembrance of those long days, as I remind myself that they will come again. And as the winter wind lashes the windows and the darkness closes in around me my mind wanders to those milky nights of midsummer, with the haar sweeping in off the sea and tumbling from the hills like a bubbling, boiling cauldron; an image evocative of any fairytale book of childhood.
These are the moments that transport me back to childhood, of long summer nights that feel like they’ll never end, of piercing shrieks from overhead tirricks and the distant haunting call of a faraway horsegock shrouded in the hills beyond.
These are the days of the simmer dim, where time stands still, and summer hangs in the balance, suspended under the midnight sun and veiled by a soft and gentle light.
There’s a sense of urgency in these days, and a bittersweet feeling taints the air.
I feel as though the whole year has been leading up to this beautiful crescendo, and the anticipation of the lightest day – da simmer dim.
It’s felt in nature too. The birds provide a musical backdrop as if dancing to the sun’s rhythm, and the wildflowers lay a rich carpet of colour – scented meadowsweet and sunny yellow buttercups – that shimmer and shine in the evening sun.
I allow my mind to wander again.
Simmer dim brings light and life, and momentarily, with the sun gently kissing my face and warming my soul, a quiet peace descends all around. Cliffs fall silent. Time has stopped.
And then, just like that, the spell is broken, the coin is flipped, and the switch is turned; and I’m staring down the barrel into the darkness once more.
I watch, with longing, as summer fades away, swallowed by the horizon, and takes its magic with it.
When you live in a land of extremes, of light and dark – summer and winter – the passing of the simmer dim feels almost liminal; it’s a time to psyche up for the approaching darkness as it marches in over the sea.
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