CONNECTING WITH SUMMER
& CELEBRATING the SUMMER SOLSTICE (June 20-21)

This garden will soon be filled with more edibles.

Soon there will be tomatoes...

The area behind the cement bench became our violet glade when I left it fallow for a Summer.

Yard salad, with a base of violet leaves.

The yard grows so lush the paths get buried and it's hard to take a good photo.

Fern growing out of a boulder at Blue Mounds State Park. Do you see the slug?

The warmth has come. Now, in mid-June, I can go into the garden with bare feet and shoulders. Stripped down, I can live without the usual layers. I see how thirsty the ground is, even this early in the season. I realize how thirsty I am- deeply, inwardly thirsty. All around me I feel powerful urges. Urges to grow and develop hum in the air. Is that what we mean by urgency? The ground shouts for water. Leaves turn eagerly towards the Sun. Roots dig into soil.  
All wait hungrily
to be given.

- Gunilla Norris
A Mystic Garden:  Working with Soil, Attending to Soul

Thoughts from Theresa:

All wait hungrily to be given-- in early Summer I have to remind myself that although the garden is green and lush, although the paths are overwhelmed with plants and it's hard to walk around, there hasn't yet been enough time to grow the annual fruits and vegetables that I hungrily wait to be given- the berries, cucumbers, sweet corn, beans, and other iconic Summer treats. I remind myself to learn more about the perennial vegetables I've planted that are ready to eat, the rhubarb and turkish rocket, and try to find time to try new recipes. 

But I still can't stop yearning hungrily for the first tomato. I refuse to buy them from the grocery store, because those tomatoes have been bred to look good after traveling cross country in a semi-truck, and truly taste bad. I prefer to wait until I can eat the first tomatoes from my garden. They are enjoyed all the more since we haven't had any fresh tomatoes since last Summer. There is nothing more heavenly than tasting the first ripe cherry tomato directly off the vine. At our house, the first tomatoes are ritually consumed together (although Bear has been known to sneak an early one for himself). 

I wait eagerly as I watch the tomato plants bloom, and the tiny fruits begin to grow. Finally, they turn a deep red or a bright orange, and the time for the first taste has come. I pick one perfect cherry tomato. It's still warm from the Sun while I caress it in my hand and give thanks. I hold it under my nose, inhaling that unique tomato scent that is the essence of Summer for me. When I can't wait any longer, I pop it in my mouth and pause to run my tongue around its slick surface. Then quickly I bite through the slight resistance of its skin and its warm liquid squirts onto my taste buds. I am transported. Summer has begun.

But that will be in the future. I must celebrate the now, as well as anticipate the joys of future tomatoes, cucumbers, and sweet corn that aren't yet ready to eat in June. We do eat a lot of yard salad at this time. I've never been very good at growing lettuce, but I have learned how to forage for edible greens from among the weeds I let grow in our yard. There was a section of garden that I used for growing annual vegetables before it became too shady. I left it empty for one season and it was colonized by a beautiful, big bed of native violets. I found out that the leaves make an excellent base for salad. They taste good all Summer, not going bitter like some lettuces. I mix the violet leaves with other weeds, such as lamb's quarters and chickweed, and sprinkle chive blossoms over the top for color.  Yummy and amazingly nutritious.  I top it with homemade salad dressing.

This is also the traditional time to harvest leafy herbs. Before the Summer Solstice (see below), many plants are still putting their energy into growing leaves, and haven't yet switched to flower production. After the heat of July starts in our area, the plants will start to look a bit haggard- with bug damage and browning leaves, so I harvest before that happens. For a brief time our kitchen sprouts drying leaves from the ceiling. Click here to learn about harvesting herbs and how I've created space for drying them in our small home.

I still try to walk the gardens every day after work, seeing the daily changes as the plants stretch toward the Sun. I spend a lot of time watering the baby plants. I always have soil under my fingernails and dirt on my feet. I start sleeping in the room that used to be an outdoor porch and still has many windows, so I can feel the blessed and cool Summer breezes on my face after a warm day, and listen to the crickets and tree frogs (our bedroom doesn't have a window that opens). I dream of napping in the hammock, although I seem to be too busy to actually do it. My spirit sees Summer as a time of ease, although my body knows it is a time of work, full of gardening and preserving. Our weekends are filled with garden projects or house renovation, since we don't have a garage or basement we can do projects in during the Winter. Summer is the active time of the year, when the longer days give us time to get more done.

Seasonal Reading:

Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury.  
Although Bradbury is known for his science fiction, I think this is his best book.  It's one I reread often. It's a memoir loosely based on his own childhood from the 1920s. If you need to remember how magical Summer can be, read this book. The images are so vivid, it's like poetry.

Seasonal Music:

Summer, piano solos by George Winston, 1982, Windham Hill Records.

Celebrating Summer Solstice
(June 21st)

Summer Solstice (around June 21st) used to be my least favorite holiday because I have a much greater affinity for the cold than the warmth. I start to be uncomfortable when the Summer temperatures get into the 80s. But then we moved into this old house and I had to pay a heating bill for the first time. This house gets really, really cold in the Winter and heat is expensive, so I began to truly appreciate Summer's warmth for the first time.

I celebrate the Summer Solstice, which is the longest day of the year. It is opposite the Winter Solstice on the calendar (Dec. 21st), which is the longest night. We celebrate Winter Solstice by connecting with the dark from sunset to sunrise. Likewise, we celebrate Summer Solstice by connecting with the light, from sunrise to sunset. Weather permitting, we try to sleep outside on Solstice Eve, under the stars in our back yard, so we can wake up with the Sun. It's something we modern people don't do very often, and we've forgotten how magical it can be. We try to stay outside all day, and be somewhere we can watch the Sun move across the sky.

This year we decided to camp with our friend Reed, who is the Naturalist at Blue Mounds State Park. Blue Mounds is the highest point in southern Wisconsin, and the park has two observation towers, one facing East and one facing West, that lets you look over the trees and from where we planned to watch the sunrise and sunset.

The Summer Solstice Sunrise from the East Observation Tower at Blue Mounds State Park, 2014

The alarm went off at 3:30 am (Central Time) in our tent on Solstice morning, when it was still completely dark. The campground was foggy and we didn't see any stars peeking through the tree canopy, so didn't know if we'd get to see the actual Sun. We went to the East Tower anyway, hopeful that the sky would clear. We walked through the dark woods, up the side of the mound. As we emerged at the top and climbed the tower, it became clear that the entire mound was surrounded by clouds. But a strong, cold breeze was pushing the mist quickly to our left, periodically showing and covering the setting crescent Moon. We arrived at the tower around 4 am, and it was still totally dark, except for a slight smear of lighter grey to the East where the Sun would rise. It became gradually lighter over the next hour, and we realized that when the mist broke open we were looking over the top of a cloud bank to where the Sun was rising. I felt like we were being given glimpses of a beautiful secret. A bit after 5 am we got to briefly but repeatedly see the actual Sun breaking over the clouds.  We watched in silence, and it was more magical than if the sky had been clear...

During the day, we took a Nature Walk that Reed led, going from the East Tower to the Indian Marker Tree. Native Americans created marker trees by purposely bending them over when they were young, so that they would grow into landmarks. Park experts used to think this tree pointed to a nearby spring, but now have concluded that it points to the Summer Solstice sunrise. You can't currently see the sunrise from the tree, since the Mound is now wooded, but when it was topped with its original prairie, there would have been a clear view. 

A brief afternoon rain shower gave us a good excuse to take a nap in the tent, then Bear grilled dinner for us before we went to see the setting Sun. Later Reed pointed out that it would have been a good idea to spend the day on top of the mound, following the Sun as He rode across the sky. Maybe we'll do that next year.

Clouds still enveloped the Mound as we walked back from watching the Sunrise.

The view from the East Tower later in the day when there were no clouds.

During the Nature walk, we saw some beautiful moss-covered rocks.

The Indian Marker Tree points to the Summer Solstice Sunrise. Unfortunately, the tree is now dead.

Bear grills dinner. Everything tastes better cooked over a fire and eaten outside.

The Summer Solstice Sunset from the West Observation Tower at Blue Mounds State Park

The Sunlight shifted and seemed slightly subdued as we ate Bear's coffee ground chicken, and it started to seem like evening in the forest. We headed to the West observation tower and got there just in time, a little before 8:30 pm CT. The Sun had set by 8:45.  This time the sky was clear and we weren't alone. A family joined us who said this was their 35th year watching the Solstice Sunset. 

View from the West Tower toward our house. On a clear day you can see for many miles.

Bear had a really long day.

The Sun hovered briefly above the horizon, then fell fast. It sunk out of sight, but its beautiful colors lingered. The longest day of the year ended, and we went into the waning time of the year. The days will get shorter and shorter from now on, although Summer's bounty still awaits us. Beginnings and endings are always intertwined.

Watching the Sunrise and Sunset on a magical day is powerful,
 because it helps us reconnect with our visceral understanding of the changing seasons.  
We need to remember how long the longest day really is (around 16 hours of Sunlight in our area).  
We need to be reminded of the gifts that are offered to us freely by the Sun- warmth and food. 
The Sun heats the Earth just right- our Mother planet is habitable for many life forms, instead of being frozen or on fire.  
The Sun's light becomes our food. Plants soak the rays of the Sun into their green leaves and miraculously photosynthesize it into food, 
becoming the basis of the food chain that feeds the rest of the world.  
On Solstice, we are reminded that the Sun is life. We celebrate and give Him our thanks.

Even after 
All this time
The Sun never says to the Earth,

"You owe me."

Look
What happens
With a love like that,
It lights the whole sky.

- Hafiz
a Sufi Mystic from the 1300s