The Summer Solstice is today. Time has been slippery for me ever since the pandemic so it’s kind of crazy to realize that we are in summer again after the year my family has just had. Here in the Pacific Northwest, we crave the sun. Notoriously famous for being a rainy state, fellow citizens celebrate the coming of the sun with parades and outdoor concerts, and lots of mountain hikes. But I have a confession. I love the rain.

Despite what many choose to believe or choose to negate, climate change is real. The difference in the weather of the past few years has been extreme. And very frightening. Massive wildfires and devastating hurricanes. Tornadoes in places that never had them before. So when the sun appears and we have had several beautiful sunny days on end, instead of wanting more, I pray for rain. A rainy day after days of the gorgeous clear sun makes me seriously happy.

I love the sun for how it filters through the trees. The way it blazes on blue water. I love clear azure skies until they are not. Until they begin to get hazy and yellow with smog and in recent years with smoke from distant wildfires. As the summer progresses, the fires get less distant. Dry earth can easily become scorched earth. So, rain. And then, the sun. And then greedy for a rainy day again, eager for petrichor, the earthy smell of rain on dry soil.

So many things have become precious to me these past few months. Whom I love. Who loves me. My safe, sweet home. Our magic garden. The many plants and flowers surrounding me. I think of the healing occurring in all areas of my life. My body. My relationships. My place in the world. The world itself. Healing is vast and can take a lifetime. One chapter ends as another begins. Like the turning pages of a book, I am turning over the things I no longer need. Today the seasons turn.

Every win along the way keeps me going. Living with nature is healing. I want this always. But how long can we draw healing from a dying place? Healing is an exchange, an act of give and take. There is a change in the air. Something dark in the wind. Smoke and ash. Last summer, I could taste it on my tongue as it blew past my home and it was chilling. It could all be gone in the blink of an eye. Every day is a blessing and a thanksgiving.

Solstice literally means to stand still. It’s the time when the sun reaches its highest or lowest (depending on which hemisphere you live in) point of the year. We are morphing from spring into summer on this, the longest day of the year. Summer. So many good memories. Swimming in the lake. Stacks of books with lots of time to read them. Barbecues. Vacations to places and people not seen all year long. Bonfires on the beach. Music blaring with the windows rolled down. So many firsts in a summer. First job. First kiss. First time behind the wheel of a car. Spring was lush, green, and verdant, with flowering plants everywhere but now many blooms have shed as we transition into summer.

My husband cut three red roses to grace our home. They remind me of things I need to remember. Faith, hope, and family. Bloom where you are planted. Healing is a process. Take nothing for granted. The blood-red petals slowly drift around the vase, the decay releasing rose perfume. I remember that the sun and rain in tandem create a wondrous natural phenomenon called a rainbow. The sunlight through the drops creates a prism of colors that sparks joy, awe, and wonder. A glorious arc across the sky. They are beautiful together. Another lesson from Nature.

Outside, a cool breeze and grey-white clouds dot the blue sky. Yesterday there was rain. Today there is sun. I begin the count the days to rain once more. Happy Solstice.