Something about the solstice

Because despite busy days with grandgirls, the longest day of the year means much to me, and I don't want to lose that notion amid whatever else is going on....

Okay, so it's early morning, all are sleeping. As for that solstice.... Currently it's heavily wrapped in a whopping marine layer that yesterday kept the sun from shining on our North Coast, and may again today veil the blue sky that on these lengthy daylight summer days seems unending. I am totally a summer person, or perhaps I merely gravitate toward the light. Whatever it is about this time of year that tugs at my heart, I long for a peek at blue sky, and if not today, then maybe tomorrow.

This post was waylaid by an early rising youngest granddaughter who sewed this mostly ALL BY HERSELF!! I did the pressing, lol....

Could it be all those years we lived in the UK, where clouds dominated? Which butts up against my childhood spent in the hot Sacramento Valley here in California, few clouds in summer of which to speak. As well as the nearly fifteen years of residence in Silicon Valley, not quite as sunny but definitely a close second....

Yet I don't lament the marine layer; it maintains healthy Redwoods as well as keeping us cool, hah! We moved here because the temps are similar to Britain, not wishing to live where intense heat dominates. And yup, we're getting what we wanted, lol, because while climates are truly altering, this section of Northern California remains locked in a pattern that is known as June Gloom. That bully marine layer conceals the sunrises and sunsets, making my husband happy, and giving me the sense that my little place on this enormous planet is what it is, blessed to experience a variety of weather, and who knows what is to come....

Eldest granddaughter made this one; no help from me at all!

What's to come is the next few weeks of incredibly bright mornings regardless of clouds. Long evenings that keep the hens poking about until well after eight p.m. A sneaky gray fox has discovered our flock, and while all eight chickens remain, we're putting them in the run at four in the afternoon, then releasing them again after seven. The fox skulks about around five o'clock, and we had a good scare a few nights back after Nadia went missing. At times she likes to forage alone, and a pile of feathers made us fear the worst. Yet at bedtime, she was waiting outside the closed coop, and we all went to bed feeling to have dodged a bullet. The granddaughters had helped us search for her, and their week, nearly at a close, will hopefully end with eight chickens and better memories.

But back to the solstice, lol. Why does it mean so much to me? As a kid, I easily recall watching the sun dip past the far hills around 9 p.m. I was older than my eldest grandgirl when paying attention, maybe thirteen; those hills signaled a west coast further than the valley, closer to the ocean, some exotic land that now is my proverbial backyard. But back then, the magic of what waited behind the hills felt wholly unbelievable! When my mom was very sick, but still at home, again I observed those sunsets, unaware she was near the end of her life and my life viewing those sparkling hills was about to cease. Yet in my mind I recapture that time, eight years ago, melding it against the darkening summer skies of my youth, and ever again another day passes and my granddaughters have no memory of my mom, but life goes on anyway.

Sunset after Mom died; June 2018.

Maybe that's why this time of year is so special, Mom's passing a wrench, yet peaceful. My life as a kid equally difficult, but not damning. Tragedies avoided, like Nadia turning up outside the coop; how dark moments aren't the end. Two within our extended circle are battling cancer, enduring toxic treatments that did nothing for my brother-in-law Stan, but maybe these chaps will fare better? I don't know, but I can hope for their recoveries, pray for them, then see what emerges. Mom's cancer was discovered far too late for anything but hospice, and all we had were ten days to knock our battered minds and hearts at how quickly she was slipping away. My youngest granddaughter was eight months old, where has the time gone? I was thirteen while realizing the depth of dreams beyond those golden hills, as the sun faded into a place which at the time seemed THE END. But another day dawned, then another, and now it's six thirty on this Friday morning, the house remaining still.

So there's my take on the summer solstice. Invariably linked to love, loss, renewal. Definitely murky today, but not every day will be this gray. Despite the murk, light lingers, reminding me love does too. Have a wonderful solstice weekend, no matter where on this planet you reside.