I slept through the solstice.
Yes, at approximately 10:16am today I was still asleep. It is my day off. And what an introduction to the summer months: my body soft and warm, curled inward, limbs wrapped in flannel tendrils, toes pointed out for open air, window open to the sounds of bird and insect lives, the sunlight approaching my face with its overpowering caress. Sometimes, through my uncurtained window, the sun feels harsh and intrusive, but this morning it was more of a presence, as if my body knew it was here to stay for a while now.
Although I wasn’t fully conscious of the significance of today when I decided, once and for all, to finally start the blog I’ve been dreaming about all month, I think the summer solstice is an auspicious day for me to begin. On this longest day of the year, despite beginning to write a blog of my own, I have managed to not spend all day inside tinging away on my keyboard. And I plan to keep it that way. By the time I was eating breakfast and drinking coffee on the picnic table, the sun was hot enough to work up a sweat. This reminded me of my recent couple months of escape in the Caribbean, during which every morning was marked by a compromise: I enjoyed my home brewed coffee even though drinking it made me feel uncomfortably warm inside and out, like I had a fever. Luckily, being that I’m back in Washington, all I had to do was get into the shade to bring myself back to a normal body temperature. Then pour another cup! Because lately I’ve been impressed by the feeling that coffee is the best part of my morning (day?), such that sometimes I can’t wait for the day to be over and a new one to start just so I can again experience the feeling of how soft and new my body feels as I take my first delicate sip of that hot, dark liquid.
Today has been a pretty decent day on many levels. The only issue I can identify is that I have not accomplished the one thing I promised myself I’d get to during my “weekend”: I did not scope out a secluded yet sunny part of the property with two sturdy trees and hang a hammock there between them, from which to enjoy the best of summer’s offerings. I’ll save that project for another time, I suppose, as the last light of this long day has now finally passed.