Good morning!
It’s Sunday, it’s Father’s Day here in the U.S., and we’ve reached the turning point of the astronomical seasons. Happy solstice!
Before watching the sunrise at Stonehenge or dancing around a maypole or thinking fond thoughts about the fathers of the world, let’s stand here and pay our respects to the water.
A steady wind from the northwest is doing its best to drown out the frogs in the swamp off to the left. Is their ruckus amorous or are they, too, commenting on the solstice? Did they gather at swamphenge to watch the sunrise? Are they wishing their frog fathers happy Father’s Day?
“This is the solstice, the still point of the sun, its cusp and midnight, the year’s threshold and unlocking, where the past lets go of and becomes the future; the place of caught breath, the door of a vanished house left ajar.”
—Margaret Atwood
Onwards,
Clara
