With the holidays fading fast in our rearview mirrors, we find ourselves in the wide open expanse of …

Photo by Walter Baxter of geograph.org.uk via Wikimedia Commons

midwinter.

About this time of year, we start counting the days until spring and wondering how the rugged residents of far northern latitudes do it. How can they keep their chins up with months more until thaw and precious little daylight in which to weather the harshest of seasons?

They must have a secret.

Photo by 4028mdk09 via Wikimedia Commons

In fact, they do.

Well, it’s not exactly a secret—the rest of the globe just hasn’t caught on to hygge yet.

The Danish term hygge (pronounced something like “heu-gah”) is worthy of translation among traditions nationwide, if for no other reason than the fact that Denmark is the happiest country in the world, according to the United Nations General Assembly’s World Happiness Report.

Photo by Kozuch via Wikimedia Commons

That’s pretty big, right?

While I’m fairly certain hygge is a noun, its definition isn’t cut and dried. It’s more of a concept, really, a notion, a ritual of sorts.

Photo by Christian Bier via Wikimedia Commons

Perhaps I should leave the defining to a lady who knows the nuances of hygge, Louisa Thomsen Brits. She’s a writer of Danish descent, and she crafted a lovely blog called—you guessed it—Hygge, where she explains this winter survival strategy most eloquently:

“Hygge is the art of building sanctuary and community, of inviting closeness and paying attention to what makes us feel open-hearted and alive. To create well-being, connection and warmth. A feeling of belonging to the moment and to each other. Hygge happens when we commit to the pleasure of the present moment in its simplicity,” Brit writes. “Hygge is a kind of enchantment—a way of stirring the senses, the heart and the imagination, of acknowledging the sacred in the secular—a way of giving something ordinary a special context, spirit, and warmth, taking time to make it extraordinary.”

Okay, so maybe that’s more of a roundabout explanation than a hard and fast definition, but you’re beginning to get the gist, aren’t you?

According to VisitDenmark.com, “Hygge actually comes from a Norwegian word meaning ‘well-being.’ It first appeared in Danish writing in the 18th Century and has been embraced by the Danes ever since.”

Now that we’ve come closer to the meaning, explore the practice (not to mention pronunciation) of hygge in this mini video travelogue from Copenhagen:

If you were walking the woods of Scotland on Midsummer’s Day (June 24 in the U.K.), you might have spotted something few humans have seen … unicorns.

Of course if you’re Scottish, you might not blink an eye. After all, the unicorn is the “national animal” of Scotland, along with the red lion, both of whom appear on its royal coat of arms.

Photo, Woodland Trust

Scotland’s Woodland Trust, an organization that protects and restores the country’s woodlands, likes to inspire people to visit forests, plant trees, and enjoy the many benefits that woodlands have to offer. And this year, they also inspired imagination and wonder as they held an event in the Ledmore and Migdale woods in Sutherland featuring the mythical, mystical unicorn.

Photo, Woodland Trust

Needless to say, the event was a magical success, drawing fantasy lovers from around the area to marvel over the elusive unicorn.

Although we think of the unicorn as pure myth, the ancient Babylonians, Persians, Romans, and Greeks all describe a horse with a single horn who had magical properties that could heal any disease or illness.

Winnie Nielsen, Farmgirl Sister of the Year and a Florida resident, sent me an e-mail and photos this week that I thought you’d enjoy seeing. Isn’t it wonderful to think that farmgirls-at-heart can see such different views right out their kitchen doors? What might you spot in your “backyard”?

“You always post such wonderful photos of your neck of the woods that I thought you might enjoy some of Warren’s photos taken a few days ago. Here are some of our local residents at Alachua Sink, a nature preserve that flows into Paynes Prairie on the south side of town heading out of the city. How ‘bout dem gators?!”

Are you mad for honey?

Photo courtesy National Honey Board, Honey.com

Did you love our tour of worldwide beehives earlier this year? Well then, you’ll want to hop aboard the Jane train as we venture off to the Black Sea region of Turkey in search of a mysterious variety of mountain honey that may be as treacherous as it is tantalizing …

Photo by Dr. Zeynel Cebeci via Wikimedia Commons

As we arrive in the beautiful port of Gulburnu, a small seaside village in Turkey’s Giresun province, the scenery looks peaceful and picturesque. Not a trace of … madness. Let’s have a look around. Hmmm … all is quiet as we ascend the slopes above town.

Photo of mountains on Turkey’s Black Sea coast by Gardenlantern via Wikimedia Commons

Who might we ask about the honey known locally as deli bal … Hello? Excuse me, can you tell us where we might find deli bal? HELLO!?

Photo by Ziegler175 via Wikimedia Commons

Can you imagine? They never even stopped to look at us! Perhaps that’s the reaction we should expect when asking about a type of honey that has, at least once in history, been used as a weapon of war.

It’s true.

“In 67BC, King Mithridates’ army left chunks of ‘mad honeycomb’ in the path of the Roman enemy, who gobbled it up, lost their minds, and were promptly slain,” reports The Guardian.

Photo by Skrissh2013 via Wikimedia Commons

Deli bal, or orman komar bali (rose of the forest honey), is rare regional honey produced by the pollination of certain rhododendron varieties that contain a natural poison called grayanotoxin.

Photo of toxic Turkish Rhododendron luteum by Karduelis via Wikimedia Commons

According to Emma Bryce of Modern Farmer, “In Turkey, not only do the poisonous rhododendrons abound, but the humid, mountainous slopes around the Black Sea provide the perfect habitat for these flowers to grow in monocrop-like swaths. When bees make honey in these fields, no other nectars get mixed in—and the result is deli bal, potent and pure.”

Photo of toxic Turkish Rhododendron ponticum by Karduelis via Wikimedia Commons

While “mad honey” is rarely fatal, consuming more than minute amounts can cause low blood pressure, heartbeat irregularity, nausea, numbness, blurred vision, fainting, potent hallucinations, and seizures.

No wonder no one wants to tell us where to find it! Mum’s the word …

Photo by Seattle Globalist via Wikimedia Commons

“People believe that this honey is a kind of medicine,” Süleyman Turedi, a doctor at Turkey’s Karadeniz Technical University School of Medicine, told Bryce. “They use it to treat hypertension, diabetes mellitus, and some different stomach diseases.” He went on to say that deli bal is taken in small amounts, sometimes boiled in milk, and consumed typically just before breakfast.

That is, if you dare.

“If you do find yourself in the area and want a taste, you’ll have to dig a bit deeper than supermarket shelves,” Bryce advises. “Ask nicely, and chances are most local shopkeepers will hand over a jar from a stash tucked behind the counter, adding to the old-world mystery of it all.”

So, tell me … would you dare?

Few destinations on Earth inspire such wintry notions in our imaginations as Iceland. I mean, the name alone is shivery, not to mention the landscape …

Photo of Sunset at Goðafoss in Winter, Iceland by Andreas Tille via Wikimedia Commons

Excuse me while I grab my parka.

Now that I’m sufficiently bundled, I hope you’ll don your warmest winter apparel and tag along to the far reaches of the far north, where sturdy little turf farmhouses are currently blanketed in snow and cloaked in darkness. That’s right—only four to six hours of skimpy sunlight each day. But don’t fret, there are wonders to behold …

Photo of the northern lights in Iceland by Francisco Diez via Wikimedia Commons

and laufabraud to be made!

“In Iceland, the beginning of the Christmas season means it’s time to make laufabraud, snowflake breads,” writes Linda Raedisch in The Old Magic of Christmas: Yuletide Traditions for the Darkest Days of the Year.

Laufabraud, which literally translates as “leaf bread” but is also known as snowflake bread, is a thin, circular cake fried in oil or lard. Intricate designs carved into each bread often look a bit like geometric leaves, hence the name. They remind me of the paper snowflake cut-outs that elementary school kids proudly bring home this time of year.

Photo courtesy of Nordic Thoughts

Fallegur! (That means “beautiful” in Icelandic—thanks Google Translate.)

“Laufabraud is an Icelandic Christmas tradition that originated in the north of the country. The bread possibly has a much older origin, but references to it in written sources appear around 1736 as the Icelanders ‘candy.'” explains worldly food enthusiast Esther Martin-Ullrich, who blogs at Why’d You Eat That?.

“Many families have their own personal traditions surrounding the bread,” says Martin-Ullrich. “They gather together in the beginning of December, usually on the first Sunday of Advent, and make a full day out of it. Groups of 12 to 15 can make several hundred cakes at a time. At the end of the day, the cakes are split evenly between all and are stored in cookie tins until Christmas. Recipes are passed down from mother to daughter, and there are also designs passed down through generations.”

Photo courtesy of http://whydyoueatthat.wordpress.com/ 2011/12/01/day-1-laufabraud/

The patterns were traditionally created using a heavy brass roller called a laufabrauðsjárn (leaf bread iron) like the ones below, but they can also be cut by hand with a paring knife.

Photo courtesy of Islensk.is via Pinterest

Here’s a short video about the making of laufabraud: