It's The Solstice... Man

You can always tell when I am in a good mood I blast Crosby Stills and Nash on the stereo. Is there anything better than Sweet Judy Blue Eyes or Marrakesh Express? Tells you how old I am, I remember when Neal Young played along. How about seeding cabbages and kale grooving to Cream’s, I Feel Free? That was before Waitrose adopted it as their Free Range Chicken Anthem. Makes me feel like wearing beaded earrings, getting henna tattooed hands and burning a bit of Nag Champa. Yup I’m an old Berkeley hippie. A tiny bit young for the total scene but the right age for the style. I have steadily worn Arizona style Birkenstocks since 1969, though I used to have to dye mine purple. I know all the words to Country Joe & The Fish‘s, Fish Cheer/ Fixin to Die Rag. At one time I had 3 piercings in each ear and that was back in 1974, same time as the birth of Punk in America. Yet here I am sporting very short white hair cut by Himself in the kitchen, only one pair of earrings dangling from the lobes, but still wearing purple Birks only this time they are dyed by the company.

Tonight is the longest day of the year. The biggest Pagan gathering of them all and we live an hour from Stonehenge. This Old Lady (as in, This is my Old Lady… man) is going to celebrate it under newly washed flannel sheets curled next to Himself and two snoring dogs. I have had a full day, read my Harper’s List for proof of my productivity. The storm whirling off Land’s End is starting to blow in overhead and quite frankly I don’t feel the urge to go drumming in a muddy field.

Yeah well, at this age I can choose and pick my festivals. Perhaps if it was warm and dry I would dig out my last velvet skirt and don my strings of semi-precious stones, but it is going to be pissing out there. Let the Arch High Druid paint his face with woad, wear his chicken bone necklace and drum in the dawn. I’ve been there and got the tee-shirt and the Point Reyes, Olema Store bumpersticker that said; Welcome to California, Now go home. I celebrate my Sun festival every day in the garden. I get up early and watch the mist rise out of the drying hay in the field behind us. I listen for the Cuckoos who have moved into the Horse Chestnut trees behind our veg patch. I plant insect attracting flowers. It doesn’t take Litha to alert me to the turning of the seasons, the Elderflower is doing it right now.

I will lay out what meager vegetables survived this year’s schizophrenic weather, the invasion of the slugs and the blitzkrieg of the wood pigeons and give thanks at Harvest Eve in August. Meanwhile I wrestle daily with my Karma after each slug hunt. Yeasty living sourdough culture bubbles away in my kitchen. Beans and lentils grace our daily menu making us somewhat windy but healthy. The vegan Rennet I ordered has arrived signalling the start of our venture into cheese making. I am still true to my roots, just not interested in squishing it between frozen toes on the plains of Salisbury at 4 in the morning.

Litha_sunset_09883 (Photo credit: original_MikZ)

As Little Orphan Annie sang, The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow.

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