Welcome to Summer, solstice!

Today, in the Northern hemisphere, the sun will reach its most northerly point at 4:23 this afternoon, our local time. If we stop to think about it, for one half of the year, the days get longer. For the other half, they get shorter. There is no extended period when they are all the same length. Things, including daylight and length of night, are always changing. And yet, unless we are among the relative few whose days are actually governed by the length of daylight, we pay little or no attention to anything but artificial time measured by mechanical or electric clocks.

Summer solstice, the dawning of a new season

Photo by J. Harrington

The (quasi-)mechanical portrait of our solar system that I was taught about in grammar school may have been an improvement over the concept that the sun revolved around the earth, but does it fit with the concept that "our" universe is expanding? Sometimes I ponder such questions as I pull buckthorn. Occasionally I wonder about them instead of pulling buckthorn. If I overindulge in heat, humidity, stubborn buckthorn, and bugs, I can do unhealthy things to my blood pressure.

a solstice celebration

Photo by J. Harrington

With luck, and some cooperation from the weather, this evening we'll celebrate the solstice by ignighting the brush pile (of mostly buckthorn) in the back yard. Perhaps some friends, whom we haven't seen in too long, may stop by. We'll maintain proper social distances. Some, perhaps all, of us will wear face masks. COVID-19 is slowly becoming but another speed bump in our lives' highways. Its repercussions may be more serious than the slowly healing tick bite on my leg, but with proper precautions and some luck, neither ticks, nor mosquitos nor COVID-19 will result in premature termination of our journey. Would you think Summer's heat had melted my brain if I asked "What was there before the big bang went boom?" May today's solstice bring us Northerners an enjoyable, healthy and safe Summer.

Solstice

Tess Taylor

How again today our patron star
whose ancient vista is the long view

turns its wide brightness now and here:
Below, we loll outdoors, sing & make fire.

We build no henge
but after our swim, linger

by the pond. Dapples flicker
pine trunks by the water.

Buzz & hum & wing & song combine.
Light builds a monument to its passing.

Frogs content themselves in bullish chirps,
hoopskirt blossoms

on thimbleberries fall, peeper toads
hop, lazy—

            Apex. The throaty world sings ripen.
Our grove slips past the sun’s long kiss.

We dress.
We head home in other starlight.

Our earthly time is sweetening from this.

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