I always feel the fractiousness of midsummer. Up here in Edinburgh sunset is 22.04pm, and it just feels like a strange, parallel universe. My anxiety always ramps up, and I sleep fitfully, with unsettling dreams. But I too have felt a calling to ritual around the wheel of the year, since childhood, and I am flummoxed by the lack of awareness or engagement from others around me. I started the day very gratefully in circle with Kerrì nì Dochertaigh and others (an offering on her Substack) and it was the balm I needed. I closed the day with an evening walk alone through my neighbouring field, where I gathered grasses and some gorse, and tried to soothe myself over how quickly the last 6 months has gone! I think having a plan in advance, even a small one, can be helpful. But I've always dreamt of a gathering of women who dip into a glassy, smooth high tide, who share stories by the fire late into the light. One day! I hope you find some stillness and rest soon, and thanks for sharing this xx
Here in the southern hemisphere today is the winter solstice - 703am sunrise and 4.53pm sunset where I am. The colder days are ahead for us. I'm energised by the connection to you all experiencing the summer solstice, making the seasonal cycles vividly grounded. On and on we go.
Hi Jo Jo, where are you based? I’m in Kāpiti, NZ and I have been feeling especially depressed this week in Midwinter. I’m assuming it’s a perimenopausal low but perhaps it’s seasonal..?
Hi Sam, I’m in South Australia and I’ve been feeling a lot of heaviness this week too. I do think it’s the energy of the Winter Solstice. There’s also a full moon!
the solstice has crept up behind me this year…one day it was cool spring weather and now it is hot (though grateful to not be under a heat dome like much of the States.)
and while the solstice passed without much hoopla, tomorrow is the strawberry full moon and i get to gather with friends to celebrate a momentous anniversary.
i have to be more intentional in finding space to rest in the frenetic energy of summer. and summer also invites me to play more. for that I am grateful.
Thank you both! A welcome reminder to shake off the mild embarrassment I feel about trying to mark the seasonal and lunar cycles and actually ask friends or family to join me at a fire. In my heart of hearts I want drumming, and a circle of like-minded crone, but I shall be happy enough if my husband joins me for a bit
For next year, you probably need to invest in blackout curtains or blinds. Meanwhile, I can assure you that Midsummer is very much a festival kept in the Nordic countries. My daughter has gone fully native in Sweden, dancing around with a garland in her hair. Children make them and celebrate in school too. Then everyone stops work for the whole of July, which seems very sensible to me.
A lovely meditation on this longest day. I did not realize there are three kinds of twilight. I looked up the definitions and now it makes sense. This makes me consider the turning of the world in a new light (literally).
Every season, I set a goal to establish a new seasonal ritual. I feel so disconnected from the wild and natural world that I would be happy with even a feeble link to the earth’s rhythms. Living in a very industrial city, the only elements of nature I can freely and unlimitedly access throughout the year are the sky and the light. I need to find a ritual that celebrates the darkness, shadow, and brightness.
Just enjoying a beautifully still, midsummer cuppa in the garden. Only the blackbird and robin singing this morning. Most of the others are quieting down, their main work done. Happy midsummer.
I’m sitting alone waiting for a pot of tea and a bowl of soup, having a brief bit of quiet, anticipating a full, loud, bright afternoon and evening as my children gather to celebrate my 5th child’s graduation. So much joy and energy and exhaustion in this season. Remembering the solstice two years ago I spent in the Lake District, my first visit to the UK, when the daylight seemed to last forever.
I'm so happy you wrote this short essay. I was just in Scotland for two weeks in late May, early June and the long days - which I've never experienced living in the U.S. to the extent you all do in the UK - amazed me. I was curiously energized by the sun and seemed to manage better than I ever have on
6 hours of sleep. I also clumsily wore an eye mask for the first time! I read your book Wintering during this past winter while planning my trip to Scotland. I couldn't help but think about this mysterious counterpoint as I was nearing the Summer Solstice on my trip of which I planned during the winter season. I love moving with the seasons - or at least I try! And then sometimes it happens effortlessly. Again, thank you for your words.
Winter Solstice for me here in Australia and I had a day filled with ritual which helped the heavy heart I’ve been feeling all week. Lit candles, meditation, mindfully cleaning, long nature walk and an evening around the outdoor fire (with homemade pizza 🍕 😀). Now ready to welcome more light into my life. 💚
It helps me to remember that summer—my least favorite season, especially when I am stuck in the gritty city (I live in Philadelphia) as I often am these days—is actually the season that the days get shorter. I love winter darkness, even though we don’t really have winter anymore in Philly, and I watch the nights lengthening by a few minutes each day with gratitude. It helps me through the unbearable heat and humidity (and the summer noise of the city) of July and August. It’s hard for me to celebrate this time of year, but I did (sort of by accident) end up at some friends for drinks yesterday and even though we weren’t explicitly celebrating the solstice, I’m glad we were celebrating friendship.
Checking in from NW Canada. Here in Edmonton, on the 53rd parallel, the sky is never really dark. It goes to a midnight blue around 11:30pm and starts to lighten around 3am. I lit a candle and incense, but I do that most nights. I used to celebrate the sabbats but I’m a lazier pagan than I once was. Luckily or unluckily, I can sleep and wake often in any balance of light and darkness or silence and noise. I really enjoyed your essay Katherine. It reminded me that some people are energized at this time of year. Personally, the heat makes me wilt. But Solstice Blessings to all, North and South!
The solstice has sneaked up on me too. Time has become even more of an abstract artifice this year. I woke up as a grumpy Goldilocks today. Can I claim it was the unexpected solstice that shook me up somehow? ‘The still point of the year’ - I’m not feeling the stillness, so my new plan is to find some kind of stillness to mark this solstice as my ritual today. Thank you, as always, for the inspiration you bring to me with your words!
I was just discussing with my daughters how, compared with my childhood, summers seem to slip by now. I know this is part of the times and choices our family makes no matter how hard we try to protect it all. In the states, sports, activities & school go year round where we live which seems to steal the excitement and marking of a summer break. Those slow, drinking from the hose, tossing a pool towel around your neck and jumping on your bike barefoot with friends, no one knew where you were summers that seem so long ago - Yesterday, I spent the solstice noticing the summer light and devouring the new bookclub read! SO good. Only Here, Only Now arrived earlier from UK Amazon than predicted and this book also stirs feelings of my childhood, growing up and summer with nothing but time. Looking forward to the book club this week! Cheers Wild Friends.
I always feel the fractiousness of midsummer. Up here in Edinburgh sunset is 22.04pm, and it just feels like a strange, parallel universe. My anxiety always ramps up, and I sleep fitfully, with unsettling dreams. But I too have felt a calling to ritual around the wheel of the year, since childhood, and I am flummoxed by the lack of awareness or engagement from others around me. I started the day very gratefully in circle with Kerrì nì Dochertaigh and others (an offering on her Substack) and it was the balm I needed. I closed the day with an evening walk alone through my neighbouring field, where I gathered grasses and some gorse, and tried to soothe myself over how quickly the last 6 months has gone! I think having a plan in advance, even a small one, can be helpful. But I've always dreamt of a gathering of women who dip into a glassy, smooth high tide, who share stories by the fire late into the light. One day! I hope you find some stillness and rest soon, and thanks for sharing this xx
Here in the southern hemisphere today is the winter solstice - 703am sunrise and 4.53pm sunset where I am. The colder days are ahead for us. I'm energised by the connection to you all experiencing the summer solstice, making the seasonal cycles vividly grounded. On and on we go.
Hi Jo Jo, where are you based? I’m in Kāpiti, NZ and I have been feeling especially depressed this week in Midwinter. I’m assuming it’s a perimenopausal low but perhaps it’s seasonal..?
Kia Ora! I’m over in Wollongong , NSW.
Just had a quick squiz here and it looks gorgeous!
https://www.visitwollongong.com.au/
Hi Sam, I’m in South Australia and I’ve been feeling a lot of heaviness this week too. I do think it’s the energy of the Winter Solstice. There’s also a full moon!
Yes, it was stunning here at 6:30am. I can’t share photos in this thread unfortunately, not that they were any good 😆
first, thank you for a new word, estival. mmmm.
the solstice has crept up behind me this year…one day it was cool spring weather and now it is hot (though grateful to not be under a heat dome like much of the States.)
and while the solstice passed without much hoopla, tomorrow is the strawberry full moon and i get to gather with friends to celebrate a momentous anniversary.
i have to be more intentional in finding space to rest in the frenetic energy of summer. and summer also invites me to play more. for that I am grateful.
thank you as always for your gracious thoughts.
Thank you both! A welcome reminder to shake off the mild embarrassment I feel about trying to mark the seasonal and lunar cycles and actually ask friends or family to join me at a fire. In my heart of hearts I want drumming, and a circle of like-minded crone, but I shall be happy enough if my husband joins me for a bit
For next year, you probably need to invest in blackout curtains or blinds. Meanwhile, I can assure you that Midsummer is very much a festival kept in the Nordic countries. My daughter has gone fully native in Sweden, dancing around with a garland in her hair. Children make them and celebrate in school too. Then everyone stops work for the whole of July, which seems very sensible to me.
A lovely meditation on this longest day. I did not realize there are three kinds of twilight. I looked up the definitions and now it makes sense. This makes me consider the turning of the world in a new light (literally).
I volunteer as tribute for a solstice swim in Whitstable next year
Every season, I set a goal to establish a new seasonal ritual. I feel so disconnected from the wild and natural world that I would be happy with even a feeble link to the earth’s rhythms. Living in a very industrial city, the only elements of nature I can freely and unlimitedly access throughout the year are the sky and the light. I need to find a ritual that celebrates the darkness, shadow, and brightness.
😞
Just enjoying a beautifully still, midsummer cuppa in the garden. Only the blackbird and robin singing this morning. Most of the others are quieting down, their main work done. Happy midsummer.
I’m sitting alone waiting for a pot of tea and a bowl of soup, having a brief bit of quiet, anticipating a full, loud, bright afternoon and evening as my children gather to celebrate my 5th child’s graduation. So much joy and energy and exhaustion in this season. Remembering the solstice two years ago I spent in the Lake District, my first visit to the UK, when the daylight seemed to last forever.
I'm so happy you wrote this short essay. I was just in Scotland for two weeks in late May, early June and the long days - which I've never experienced living in the U.S. to the extent you all do in the UK - amazed me. I was curiously energized by the sun and seemed to manage better than I ever have on
6 hours of sleep. I also clumsily wore an eye mask for the first time! I read your book Wintering during this past winter while planning my trip to Scotland. I couldn't help but think about this mysterious counterpoint as I was nearing the Summer Solstice on my trip of which I planned during the winter season. I love moving with the seasons - or at least I try! And then sometimes it happens effortlessly. Again, thank you for your words.
Winter Solstice for me here in Australia and I had a day filled with ritual which helped the heavy heart I’ve been feeling all week. Lit candles, meditation, mindfully cleaning, long nature walk and an evening around the outdoor fire (with homemade pizza 🍕 😀). Now ready to welcome more light into my life. 💚
It helps me to remember that summer—my least favorite season, especially when I am stuck in the gritty city (I live in Philadelphia) as I often am these days—is actually the season that the days get shorter. I love winter darkness, even though we don’t really have winter anymore in Philly, and I watch the nights lengthening by a few minutes each day with gratitude. It helps me through the unbearable heat and humidity (and the summer noise of the city) of July and August. It’s hard for me to celebrate this time of year, but I did (sort of by accident) end up at some friends for drinks yesterday and even though we weren’t explicitly celebrating the solstice, I’m glad we were celebrating friendship.
Checking in from NW Canada. Here in Edmonton, on the 53rd parallel, the sky is never really dark. It goes to a midnight blue around 11:30pm and starts to lighten around 3am. I lit a candle and incense, but I do that most nights. I used to celebrate the sabbats but I’m a lazier pagan than I once was. Luckily or unluckily, I can sleep and wake often in any balance of light and darkness or silence and noise. I really enjoyed your essay Katherine. It reminded me that some people are energized at this time of year. Personally, the heat makes me wilt. But Solstice Blessings to all, North and South!
The solstice has sneaked up on me too. Time has become even more of an abstract artifice this year. I woke up as a grumpy Goldilocks today. Can I claim it was the unexpected solstice that shook me up somehow? ‘The still point of the year’ - I’m not feeling the stillness, so my new plan is to find some kind of stillness to mark this solstice as my ritual today. Thank you, as always, for the inspiration you bring to me with your words!
I was just discussing with my daughters how, compared with my childhood, summers seem to slip by now. I know this is part of the times and choices our family makes no matter how hard we try to protect it all. In the states, sports, activities & school go year round where we live which seems to steal the excitement and marking of a summer break. Those slow, drinking from the hose, tossing a pool towel around your neck and jumping on your bike barefoot with friends, no one knew where you were summers that seem so long ago - Yesterday, I spent the solstice noticing the summer light and devouring the new bookclub read! SO good. Only Here, Only Now arrived earlier from UK Amazon than predicted and this book also stirs feelings of my childhood, growing up and summer with nothing but time. Looking forward to the book club this week! Cheers Wild Friends.
Sitting in the early morning garden sipping tea as the sun rises sounds wonderful…
I’m going to watch the replay of your recent retreat today (23 June) to mark this time os summer solstice. X