The sun burnishes the horizon
in spun gold, as he slips beneath
flat topped mountains at dusk..
The summer solstice
is nearly upon us;
Earth is heating up.
The merciless sky is
a bleached bone at noon.
The third week of June
marks the end of the sun’s
to lengthen Earth’s days.
Sun seems oblivious to Shadow.
Twilight shrinks in his wake.
For a time it will seem like the star stands still,
Then a gradual reversal of directions
reinforces Nature’s truth –
Change is the only constant.
With his northern journey completed,
the sun will soon arc to the south.
His coming and going is both
Earth process, and event.
Within a month or so
after the longest day of the year has passed
silvery sheets of rain will slip
through thick gray clouds.
Instantly the earth turns green.
The summer rains are an act of becoming.
Who puffs up the clouds?
Some say Thunderbeings
stir the sky into frenzy.
Bolts of jagged steel lightening
zapping parched cracked ground.
Rumbling ominously, storm clouds
threaten to erase the line
between horizon and mountain.
Roaring arroyos fill,
spill over, flood fertile fields.
Did you know that an inch
of pure rain water
nourishes the Earth
more efficiently than
any water drawn from the ground?
This dance between the sun
and his lady,
Keeps the Earth in Balance.
Gardens explode with chilies, corn and beans!
When Cloud Woman weeps,
tears heal wounds.
Frogs and toads hum.
A flaming orange oriole
nests by the river
and sings from the Bosque
Women sing love songs
to honor our Blessed Mother
who brings the Gift of
The term “Blessed Mother” is used as a metaphor for the Soul of the Earth, and has nothing to do with religion.
This is the time of year that I find myself longing for twilight, that space in between, where light from the sun meets the one who dims the light.
I also dream of rain.
I have practical reasons for wishing that dark and light weren’t so extreme at this time of year. My eyes ache from being exposed to the fierce sun, even with sunglasses. I don’t sleep as soundly, or dream as deeply during the late spring and summer months. My energy shifts without warning. The mid -afternoon fiery heat is too intense and lasts too long into evening.
I also miss the shadows that are cast over the mountains during other seasons, revealing sharp contours and a depth that is no longer visible during the late spring or summer. Here in New Mexico the absence of rain often characterizes spring, although heavy winter snows at high elevations bring forth the most beautiful spring wild flowers, flaming orange globe mallows, crimson, purple, and sky blue penstemon, fiery Indian paintbrush, cornflower blue flax and the delicate gilia, purple mat, heron’s bill, violet vetches and an endless array of buttery yellow flowers. These lovely long months of spring are also sometimes clouded by fierce winds that blow in from the west stirring up spiraling tunnels of dust and debris. And tender seedlings curl inward crushed like paper under the shock of sudden frost.
And yet, whenever I am tempted to complain too much about the sun’s fiery rays and light that lingers too long, I remember that without the searing heat of this star, life would cease to exist. Plants and flowers couldn’t blossom, or produce seeds, or pods. The wild cactus wouldn’t swell with magenta, pink, yellow or red buds. The trees wouldn’t leaf out gifting us with precious shade like the elephant arms of the cottonwoods do as I pass under their cool canopies on my daily morning walks. The rabbits wouldn’t give birth and lizards couldn’t bask on rocks warmed by early morning sunlight.
I appreciate all the seasons for different reasons. Today we know that the solstice is an astronomical event caused by the earth’s 23.4 tilt on its rotational axis and it’s elliptical orbit around the sun. In the northern hemisphere, midsummer, or the summer solstice marks the longest day of the year, the day when the North Pole is leaning closest to the sun. As the earth orbits the sun the position of the two hemispheres change in relation to their starry center. At this time of year we lean towards the sun and summer begins, while in the southern hemisphere the earth is tilted away from the sun creating winter. A solstice happens at the same instant for all of us, everywhere on earth.
Oddly, it isn’t until after the summer solstice that the earth really heats up even though the days are already shortening in duration. This phenomenon is called the lag of the seasons. It’s the same reason that it’s hotter in mid-afternoon than at noon. Earth takes time to warm up. Even in June ice and snow still blanket the earth in some places. The sun has to melt the ice and warm the oceans before we experience summer heat. With global warming this process has been speeded up so we are, on the whole, experiencing hotter weather throughout the world. Our once permanently frozen polar ice is melting, flooding the oceans with more water and raising the water level on each continent.
As I approach summer I look forward to astonishing sunsets that stain the sky purple, crimson, gold, and midnight blue. I will walk through cool blue mornings. I imagine the clouds puffing up like tufts of thick cotton appearing on the horizon sometimes before noon, billowing skyward, nature’s balloons. Every afternoon there’s a chance for a shower, and this year I long to hear the Spadefoot toads that have been buried underground who appear like magic, with the advent of the first monsoon. I missed this serenade and no doubt, those of other amphibians, last year.
What I love most about summer is the rain. Indigenous Pueblo peoples believe that when thunder and lightening rule the skies a torrent of “male rain” floods even the high places. “Female” rain falls gently from a slate gray sky soaking every root, leaf and flower transforming the desert into an oasis teaming with life. Have you ever noticed that after any kind of rain the birds sing their hearts out, hummingbirds chirp wildly, and bees hum even at dusk?
Certainly a marriage between the two is needed to sustain life on this precious blue green planet.
Personally, I think the gender of the sun is male, while rain feels like a female element. Some would disagree unless they were eco – feminists like me! An eco – feminist, not a popular term today, links the abuse of women to the destruction of our planet. For example, I come from the northeast where the rape of the forest is ongoing, while U.S. statistics tell us that rape of women is on the rise. Women have been associated with trees in myth, story, and cultures since the dawn of humankind. No coincidence here.
Sanctioning one form of abuse seems to promote others. Our present U.S. political situation supports horrific abuse of all kinds.