Here above the 49th parallel, the longest day is really long. Rosy dawn begins to warm the sky around 3:30 am, and the last of blue twilight doesn't fade until after 11pm. Solstice time brings extra high and low tides, and long evenings that are perfect for lingering on the beach around a driftwood fire. Summer Solstice is to the year what
full moon is to the month. It's the apex of the annual cycle, the completion of what was set in motion on Winter Solstice. Energies of expansion and growth are at their peak. All over the world, summer solstice is celebrated with fires, parades, joyful
carnaval like celebrations. I've always been drawn to more solitary, thoughtful celebrations at solstice time - I like to be out in nature, preferably somewhere high and dry to better appreciate the radiance of this day of the sun. I like to make sure I witness either the sunrise or the sunset, perhaps both. I like to take time to look at the goals and intentions I set at Winter Solstice, reassess, and set intentions for the next quarter as well as the remainder of the year. I like to celebrate, with gratitude, what has flowered so far during the year for me. I like to be with the people I love and revel in their company. How do you celebrate the longest day?
antique bourbon roses from my garden, in a blossomware tumbler
2 comments:
A Wonderful Solstice to you, Bronwyn.
Quiet gratitude for what is. that is the way that I have spend my solstice
I love to be at my cottage in northern New Brunswick for the summer solstice. Here, the daylight stretches almost through the night, like you have described, as do the reflections on the bay. The blue herons continue their shore line patrol so late that it seems their random squawks have barely disappeared before the songs of morning birds begin. There is an energy, a spirit, that stirs one's core. The silhouettes of spruce trees are not entirely dark.
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