The Sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers but for the wide world’s joy. – Beecher
Midsummer. A mundane, but beautiful, even magical, word. The mention of it brings yearning for a specific satisfaction to my heart. For the lingering sweetness of the evening light, for dusk and gold and sighs. I crave simple things. A bonfire. An iced glass of lemon balm tea, like drinking sunlight. To sit in dappled shade, with the delicate shadows of Queen Anne’s Lace, heavy umbel flower heads nodding in a just right breeze.
Summer. Say it slow, say it luxuriously. Summmmmmmmer.
We head out in the late afternoon, forgetting about dinner, instead wandering through canopies of the last buckeye blossoms, spending time on important endeavors. Like playing stone toss, or stone balancing, or making leaf crowns and wands and becoming Fae.
It’s absolutely the appropriate behavior.
Tomorrow we will find St. John’s Wort and infuse the blossoms in vodka, in oil, hoping to preserve this high season, the red extraction a blessing for our souls in darker months. Maybe we will jump over candles. I know we will garden and celebrate with friends.
What will you do?
Happy Summer Solstice!