
Chapter
Will-O'-Wisp
Bright green fir trees were everywhere as we left Umeå in the early hours of the morning. We made a short stop and found bog rosemary in full bloom. Soon the mist came creeping down from the mountain. My companion alerted me to a green light among the trees. I felt a sudden urge to follow its glow, which seemed to be moving deeper into the forest. The interpreter advised against it, and when I persisted, he grabbed me hard by the coat until the light had vanished. I grew angry, calling him a muck-eater and a smellfungus. Now I regret my words, wondering whether he somehow saved me from a tragic fate.
— Carl Linnaeus, June 12th, 1732