Today is the Summer Solstice, Litha, Midsummer’s Day, the longest day of the year. Looking out my window as I write, it appears this will be a day to mark rather than a remarkable day. Gray, fairly calm, and nondescript, but still, it’s high summer. Still, it’s home.
I’m not complaining, mind. A day that starts early, with a walk outside in the fresh air, stepping over to the dooryard rhubarb patch to choose four stalks, which will make two mornings worth of hot, tart stew, then wandering back inside to light the stove and get the coffee going . . . this is a good day. Not much different from any other summer day, but I appreciate it all the same. Continue reading
