Sunday, 22 June, 2014

    Yesterday friends and neighbors joined us on the farm to celebrate the summer solstice.  Fellow farmers, market customers, shopkeepers, professors, poets, guitarists, cyclists, students, parents, and children gathered to share a seasonal supper and enjoy the longest day.  A group of us hiked up the butte adjacent to the farm, pausing at times to admire the large trees and small scrub, to listen to bird calls, to gape at the most delicate orange lilies, and to inhale the scent of warm firs and cedars.
We stopped in a meadow filled with tall grass, oxeye daisies, and self-heal to enjoy the evening light filtering in through the trees.  Some people made and wore crowns of daisy chains.   One by one each person attempted to make a whistle from their thumbs and a blade of grass, and the meadow was soon filled with honks and shrieks (and the occasional hand fart from those of us who failed to create a whistle) of amazing and amusing variety.  A wild frisbee game involving eight people scattered across a hundred square feet erupted.  Mostly people sat and savored the evening in this beautiful place, either in conversation or in contemplative silence.
By the time we had hiked down and arrived back at the farm it was almost full dark.  Some folks hit the road and others set up camp for the night, singing and telling stories into the wee hours.  In the morning as I walked to various fields to check irrigation, I tiptoed by several sleepy encampments and smiled to think of our good fortune to know so many fine people who were able to join us and share our place and this evening of