Early on June 21st, in the northern hemisphere, we reached the highpoint of our planet’s annual celestial journey around the sun: the longest day, the shortest night, the summer Solstice. Here on the farm, we are surrounded by nature’s expansive response to the light and the warmth that the Solstice brings.

The early mornings are greeted with exultant song from blackbirds, thrushes and robins; bumblebees and honey bees buzz and hum as they feast on nectar and pollen rich blooms; butterflies wing lightly from flower to flower, dancing in the sunlight; trees, hedges, waysides and fields are green with growth and flowers of hawthorn, elder, cow parsley and daisy dot the verdancy with splashes of brilliant white.

For the last couple of weeks all of nature has been celebrating the height of the Sun’s powers, relishing days of sunshine and heat, enjoying a full 8 hours, 49 minutes more daylight than it will when the sun reaches its nadir at the winter Solstice.

The word Solstice comes, via 13th century French, from the Latin solstitium which means ‘point at which the sun stands still.’ The Earth’s tilted axis means that the Sun’s position on the horizon each morning and evening changes throughout the year, just as it climbs higher and higher in the sky as the Solstice approaches. But at the June solstice the Sun reaches its northernmost point in the sky and for a few days its position does not seem to change – the sun stands still.

The ancient people of the British Isles marked this momentary pause in the Sun’s journey by building circles of stone and wood with which to honour it. They stayed up all night on Midsummer's Eve to welcome and watch the sunrise. They lit bonfires on tops of hills and by holy wells to honour the Sun’s strength and carried burning herbs from the bonfire to bless their animals, their homes and farms.

“Take refuge in your senses, open up
To all the small miracles you rushed through.” John O’Donohue

I wonder if this Solstice we can join with our ancestors and all those other-than-human celebrants and mark this high-point too? You may have been longing for the lighter evenings throughout the cold, dark days of winter, delighting as the spring brought the promise of more and more light and warmth.

Yet, if we are not careful, our forward moving lives, with their headlong rush toward the future, may propel us past this moment without even noticing it is here. Snow and ice may still be a long way off but we are already at the turning point and winter will soon begin to call us from its distant wildness.

So, let’s take our cue from the sun and pause, stand still a while, to mark the magnificence and make the most of these midsummer days and nights. Feast outside with picnics and barbecues, relishing summer foods – asparagus, radishes, strawberries - from the garden, the pick-your-own farm or a local Farmers’ Market. Drink in the tastes and smells of the season or better still, make elderflower cordial or champagne from the hedgerow blooms.

Walk barefoot in the grass. Swim in a river or the sea. Get drenched in warm rain. Soaked in sunlight. Let nature in. Or, if your circumstances put these sensory pleasures beyond your reach, then let nature inside – fling open the windows and doors, pull back the curtains, welcome the sounds and smells of summer into your home.

Wherever we are, whatever our circumstances, this is an opportunity to stand still and be where we are, with the season, the light, the buzz, the hum, the wing, the song and the sun.

The Sun - Mary Oliver

Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful

than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon

and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone--
and how it slides again

out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower

streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance--
and have you ever felt for anything
such wild love--
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure

that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you

as you stand there,
empty-handed--
or have you too
turned from this world--

or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?

With warmest summer wishes

Mark