Solstice, Merry summer solstice

The trees are so very green after a long dry day it began to rain..  The garden is perking up even some volunteer seeds from the compost are starting to sprout.   The "old Farmer" always said that  volunteer plants were the best growing and best tasting.   And in most cases i feel he was right.

Merry be your Solstice Day!

In the very back of my  head resides the childhood belief that that the longest day of the year is indeed hours longer than the day before or the day after it.  And indeed it seemed that way last night.

There are usually wild strawberries to pick on Solstice day, but this year there aren't even any green ones to be found, however there are many, many  flowers on the tiny vines.   

Last night I stood at the window looking out into the gathering darkness, waiting for the rain and watching the fireflies twinkling along the  edge of the forest.  It felt like seeing magic happen.  So i made a wish, feeling blessed by the serenity of the moment.   Have been compelled by the serenity of a snowy Winter Solstice twilight while watching Christmas lights glow in the distance to do the same.   

 

Across the  millenniums, though my life is admitted very different from theirs, ancestors felt close to me, on the next to the last day before the decent into winter begins. 

This year the day leading up to Summer's Solstice was cold and gray,  too cold for my creaky bones, so building a small fire in the stoker seemed a pretty reasonable solution. 
The cold and wet chimney slowed my progress and as I split more kindling to encourage the fire, A Yin and Yang symbol cane to mind.   Very obtuse, was my first thought, but then again, they do signify the coming change of season, the tipping point of the seasons might be more correct.  Balance, balance in all things?  The universe seemed to tell me that there is something, some connection, I'm just not sure what that connection is yet, but if I ever figure it out I will tell you.

My grandmothers used to tell me.  "Plant your  garlic on the  shortest day of the year and harvest it on the longest."  To be honest I frequently plant my garlic on the opposite schedule,   Sometimes it even works out well that way.   

 

Happy Summer Solstice, my Friends!!  Turn your face to the Sun and the shadows fall behind you.

author unknown to me 

  

 

Merry Yule

 In this this year where nothing was as sure as it once was, safety and health were very relative terms,  peace and serenity were widely sought but rarely found.  The Earth still turned on it's axis.  Though the weather didn't always follow it's usual course,  the earth still followed it course around the  furnace of our Sun.  Hours and minutes of daylight getting shorter since the warmth of the Summer Solstice last June,  now they will continue to grow longer, thru the coldest months of the year in the Northern hemisphere.   

The short days were a time to learn new skills and make  beautiful and/or useful objects.   This year seems to have added that back into our lives.   We are not limited by the  same things our ancestors were, save one, the wolves that prowled their woodlots, are analogous to the the Virus that prowls out towns.

My hope is that the growing length of the days will strengthen our souls.  

 

 

 

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE YULETIDE

Twas the night before Yuletide and all through the glen

Not a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.

A mantle of snow shone brightly that night

As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.

The faeries were nestled all snug in their trees,

Unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.

The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows,

Sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.

When low! The earth moved with a thunderous quake,

Causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.

The Little Folk scrambled to get on their feet

Then raced to the river where they usually meet.

“What happened?” they wondered, they questioned, they probed,

As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.

“What caused the earth’s shudder? What caused her to shiver?”

They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.

Then what to their wondering eyes should appear

But a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.

It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,

Then it flew straight up and was lost in the sky.

Before they could murmur, before they could bustle,

There emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,

A stately old crone with her hand on a cane,

Resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.

As she passed by them the old crone’s perfume,

Smelling of meadows and flowers abloom,

Made each of the fey folk think of the spring

When the earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.

“My name is Gaia,” the old crone proclaimed

in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed,

“I’ve come to remind you, for you seem to forget,

that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet…”

“I see no hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,

The air isn’t filled with rich fragrant smells

Of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,

Of cider that’s mulled or other hot brews.”

“There aren’t any children at play in the snow,

Or houses lit up by candles’ glow.

Have you forgotten, my children, the fun

Of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?”

She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going round,

As they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.

Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day,

“Come, my children,” she said, “Let’s play.”

They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,

Threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.

They lit a big bonfire, and they danced and they sang.

They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.

They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,

In colors of cranberry, bayberry, cherry.

They built giant snowmen and adorned them with hats,

Then surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.

Then just before dawn, at the end of their fest,

Before they went homeward to seek out their rest,

The fey folk they gathered ‘round their favorite oak tree

And welcomed the sun ‘neath the tree’s finery.

They were just reaching home when it suddenly came,

The gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame.

It lit on the tree top where they could see from afar

The golden-like sphere turned into a star.

The old crone just smiled at the beautiful sight,

“Happy Yuletide, my children,” she whispered. “Good night.”

Poem author C.C. Williford

It was the custom in our house each year to pinch a few needles from the Tree and put them in a container where as far as I know they remain to this day.  And it is a tradition that I continue and pass down. 

 

 

 

haiku~~~longest night of the year

 sunset,snow falling
walking home on the longest
might of the year, bliss