Jun 24, 2014

All Upon A Midsummer Weekend

Midsummer dawned sunny and hot on Saturday, and I had a plan.  Which of course meant, nothing would go as planned.

I took my walk beside the river, the plants growing tall and reaching for my knees after the rains of the previous week.  The Saskatoon berries were ripening and I picked as many as I could reach. It was a small harvest, but I'll return tomorrow for some more in the hopes of getting a few jars of jam out of the effort.

Upon returning home with the tasty jewels, I noticed that my dear rue had started keeling over from the winds. It was time for a trim.  A huge armfull of green-vanilla scented bliss later, I strung lengths of twine in the basement and hung the charming herb to dry

Later that morning I drove to the next town to the lakeshore in order to take part in a solstice gathering, but was turned away. There was a classic car show happening, and no parking to be found for blocks.

I carried on to the west, up the hillside and stopped at the cemetery that houses the ashes of my grandparents.  I washed their headstones, and left them the lavender that I had woven into my hair that morning.

I continued on my journey up the mountain, and found that the yarrow was ripe for picking.

A basket full of the healing herb, and dusty and dry myself, I still wasn't ready to go home, so I drove south toward the desert.  I stopped at a farm stand to pick up local honey and just-ripe cherries, and paid some silver to a favourite crossroads before moving into the land of sage brush.

I stopped to pick a handful of the fragrant plant and carried on to another cemetery to pay my respects to the goddess, in one of her many forms.

By the time I found myself back at home hanging bundles of yarrow and sage, red cheeks and arms from too much sun, I was exhausted. I had plans to attend an evening circle at the lake as well.  But the hours in the sunshine and fresh air had left me weary, and the glass of crabapple wine I was sipping was a terribly good additional excuse not to drive again.  

I spoke my gratitudes, petitions and charms that night, and toasted the longest day, and then slipped effortlessly into dreams of plants and mountains and ancestors.

I hope your Midsummer/Solstice was absolutely delightful, and everything you hoped for - even if it didn't go exactly as planned!


mxtodis123 said...

How beautiful it is where you live. So different than the concrete jungle I call home.

jaz@octoberfarm said...

your midsummer sounds perfect to me!

Debra She Who Seeks said...

I hope I can lay my hands on some saskatoons this year at a farmers market. I didn't get any last summer at all. Nothing says "the prairies" to me more than saskatoons. Except maybe rhubarb.

Linda Wildenstein said...

What a magical herb tour of your area. I would have been too pooped to pop too. Glad your day was so dear and that you got to be in nature. THanks for sharing your adventures. Oma Linda

Debra Nehring said...

What a lovely Solstice Day you had!
I can smell that sagebrush in my mind, so pungent and fresh!
Solstice was quiet for me this year, spent time in the garden, picking the strawberries and talking to the herbs.
Evening was a fire and some juice of the vine.
Happy Summer, Jenn!

Birgit said...

Dear Jen,

Your solstice sounds perfect to me. :) I am glad to hear that you had such a great day out in nature. Thanks for sharing the highlights of your day -- and I would have loved to see a picture of you with lavender in your hair. :)