A little over five weeks till the summer solstice

About six months ago I wrote a post about five weeks till the winter solstice. Funny to think that's about half a year ago already.

Nothing felt summery earlier this month; all those gray days seemed like a weird winter, because it was chilly but light out. We had four fires in our fireplace, maybe more than we actually had during winter. It was lovely to go out for more wood at seven p.m. and it wasn't dark, LOL.

Then suddenly, like a weather switch has been flipped, we've had mostly sunny days since Mother's Day! Windy but not cold. Bright and healing. Truly like summer is around the corner, though here in Humboldt County summer is a relative term. It's summer once the dragonflies arrive, mowing down the mosquitoes. It's summer in July because by then not only are the mosquitoes gone, but the days are still lengthy and the marine layer isn't quite the wet blanket it was in June because there's just enough heat soaked into the ground that makes it feel.... Kinda warm out. Along the North Coast, kinda warm out is often the best we get for summer, but that totally beats triple digit temps for days on end.

In the approach to the summer solstice, I observe how the evening sunshine creeps up the tallest redwoods in our treeline; last night the vestiges of sun hung around as late as 8.15 p.m.! I was outside, saying goodnight to the chickens, then as I walked back to the house, those slivers of gold atop trees was gone. By then it was pushing 8.25 p.m., not bad at all. More amazing was that it was still cloudless out, and shortly after that I spotted Venus to the west, then a little later Jupiter overhead Venus! I had never seen Venus in the west or at night, such a summertime thrill!

Or almost summer, hehehe.

Whether we have clear or cloudy mornings, for the next seven or eight weeks, our days will start bright and early compared to six months previously. One reason I'm writing this in the evening is that the chickens are still roaming, no reason for me to go outside until it's closer to eight o'clock. Even then they won't be in the coop yet, foraging for those last treats of Thursday, the fourteenth of May. How late will they stay outside in five weeks? They won't even be a year old on the solstice, LOL! (They turn a year old on 24 June.) It will be fascinating to see how their sleep patterns alter with these long days. I know I'm ready for bed, hah!

11 May, 2026

The photo above is from Mother's Day at Samoa Beach; we were captivated by the blue sky, wondering if it was merely a brief reprieve from the clouds. It wasn't, whew! And what's more, I will now appreciate the marine layer's less dominant stranglehold on June, commonly known as the June Gloom. Because most times that gloom burns off by noon, whereas what we endured this month (and the very end of April) did NOT burn off. It clung to us like, well, the winter solstice was in full control.

Yet, it's not. It's a long ways away, or far enough away that I can revel in summer-like lengthy days, if not summer-like warm temps. But that's fine, I don't need HOT weather. Long days and getting to watch the sunrise are enough for me. And for the next several weeks, I'll take as much of those treats of nature as I can get. Because happiness comes when we open our eyes and hearts to what truly matters. As I still see sunshine on those tall trees, best I get my butt over to the coop, collect any last eggs, then cajole hens to climb the roost and go to bed. I'm tired, but grateful. And ready to do it all again tomorrow.