On the Summer Solstice
What do you do with the longest day of the year?
It's the longest day of the year in the northern hemisphere. Fifteen hours and fifteen minutes of sunlight here, today. What should one do with this abundance of light?
The birds sing sooner. Welcoming the day with flutter and twit as song filters through the trees and windows. They sound excited, as if trying to get it all out as fast as they can. Do they know they have all day to sing?
The trees, dancing in the breeze, open their arms to embrace their partner in the sky. Perhaps today they will provide extra respite to a picnicker, or that bird. If they could uproot and walk away, would they find a shady spot?
Our neighbors are quiet today. Typically up with the sun to tend to lawns or go to work, today the sounds of morning are natural not mechanical. So much day to be had it's hard to plan where to start or to even start at all. There are only so many hours in the day.
What does one make of the day when you have more of it to make?
There's something in human nature that must ascribe meaning to the world around and above us. 'To make sense of the world,' is the often prescribed explanation. Sensemaking does put us at ease. We wear and create objects that combine the elements of nature with ourselves. Is that to remind us that we are one with nature, or to assert our dominance over it?
