Summer Herself

Happy Solstice! Welcome, friends and new subscribers! And welcome also to our special recurring guest, Summer Herself, now here with full Royal Entourage,

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Alchemical image from Splendor Solis 4

She is our annual expected guest. We knew she was coming, and she sent her messages throughout late spring. But somehow I didn’t quite believe it, or I behaved as if she weren’t already on her way. I thought I’d stayed in the same pattern as before, but soon was waking a little earlier, and enjoying later sunsets. Work and life expectations continued on unabated. No new plans. Yes, Summer’s coming soon, I thought, as the daisies bloomed and the lupins blossomed and all the grasses went to seed, becoming more like straw. Summer’s coming, I thought, as the days began so much earlier, and the birds filled the skies, while ants and mosquitoes came into view. A large butterfly - bigger than a hummingbird flew by as the arbutus dropped dry slippery leaves in the wind.

The thought that she is coming is part of her presence. She always sneaks in, sending her emissaries first, to prepare the way. And so we prepare the guest space for her, but she ignores that and spreads herself out all over. We are flattened and all agendas go out the window. HERE IS SUMMER, the trumpets announce, pennants brilliantly waving in the breeze beneath the sun.

She comes every year and stays as long as she can, but somehow I always forget what it is like to be in her presence. First there’s the heat, the afternoon buildup and the change in the air. That’s the main clue that hits me, hey summer’s really here now. She causes all sorts of turmoil just by being here. All the plans and daily grind seem to become more irrelevant. By evening, there isn’t much left of any sort of rational orientation, and when the heat pump is switched to air conditioning, she has finally had her way.

As if we hadn’t known before, we suddenly realize that she’s also a reckless guest, and dangerous. Bringing drought that dessicates all our green and endangers forests with the threat (and reality) of fire. Smoke and this sort of devastation attend her, smother any thought of enjoyment.

But days with her promise to be long, and sweet, bringing with them memories of all her other visits. Regular as the phases of the moon, part of the universal pattern, she comes, and surprises us every year with her gifts. Sometimes they are the same as the year before, or similar, and sometimes they may be hidden for a time in rain or other atmospheres that seem to intermittently attend her.

She is the prime example of Miss Manners’ admonition about guests who bring other guests. It is not polite, and shouldn’t be done. But nothing about Summer pays attention to this sort of thing. She is as she is, and takes pride of place when she arrives. She is known for deciding for herself, and by extension for us, who or what she brings with her, so something about her is always unexpected. She comes with a full royal entourage and this has to be accepted.

She encourages parties under the moon, garden gatherings by the flowers, walks and picnics. Going places and doing things. Discovering. She brings a buildup of thunderstorms, and rainbows. She takes us outside to see the skies. Open all the doors and windows, here she is now. Put on your sunglasses, let’s go out!

Cool summers feel like a disappointment. Hot summers feel like an ordeal. There is not much mid-ground with her. Yet we welcome her every year with such enthusiasm. Things stir up, build up, like vast cumulous clouds ready to thunder. “No time for the hammock, grasshopper. Be like the ant and gather what you can for later.” This way of thinking feels so counter-intuitive and so un-summer. No we can’t flatten summer days to become like all the others we imagine in a perfect productive world. Summer has nothing to do with that sort of productivity. This is bounty and it is overflowing, expanding in sublime generosity. Summer Herself prepares our harvest. Until then we enjoy her presence, taking her into ourselves with all the joy that is possible to offer to the sun.

I could go on and on but maybe this version of Vivaldi’s Summer says it best. Take the time to just watch and listen - after all, Summer is here.

Fantastic Performance

This meaningful and emotional performance was recorded for the eve of the summer solstice in 2020, bringing with it the longest day of the year and the promise of sunnier days ahead. Performed by members of the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra and led by Robert Uchida, Concertmaster and Soloist. Perhaps it is more beautiful because it was recorded during the pandemic, played to an empty concert hall, in that time of great uncertainty. They poured their emotions into it at that time, making it much more than a performance, it is a ritual of homage and a cry of the heart.

If you like, try playing the music to accompany your reading. It takes a while for the musicians to come in and tune up, but well worth it. And the pauses between parts ask us to hold patient silence.