Festival of the Wreaths

On Saturday, we went to our annual Polish summer solstice celebration, called the Festival of the Wreaths.  The legend goes that all of the maidens make beautiful flower wreaths and set them to sail on the nearest lake.  The man who retrieves a maiden's wreath is entitled to her hand in marriage.  We have been going for decades, since I was a little girl, and back in those days, the festival was always at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial.  We have taken the kids year after year at various other locations as the reflecting pool has been renovated (does anyone remember the year the water was dry?  Oh, what a funny thing!), but in my heart, the celebration belongs just where it was this year.  Washington Monument (scaffolding and all) on the horizon, ducks in the reflecting pool, and big Abe Lincoln overlooking us from his his comfy chair up top.  

Zosia, Lily, and my Aunt Basia (who was the birthday girl!) all got to participate in the parade of maidens, and I do believe they were the prettiest three in the bunch.  Lucky the men who retrieve their wreaths.  Hugo was quite convinced that the point of the whole thing was the ducklings in the pond, because, obviously that is much more interesting than dancing and such.  And this just may have been one of the final outings for Irene and Robbie before the arrival of their little one.  I'm on call for the birth, and my heart skips a beat every time the phone rings!  What excitement!

The moon is full, the days are long, and I do believe our lives are quite full, too.  We stayed out until the sun was setting and drove home with droopy lids.  Thrilled and exhausted, just as it should be.