27 Jun Summer solstice musings
The summer solstice, with its long and lingering daylight, has come and gone. I happened to see on TV (although I can’t remember where, since I don’t own or watch TV) the gathering of pagan pilgrims who come to Stonehenge for the solstice. And that event, coupled with Kathleen Winter’s lovely and evocative post about her visit to the ancient site made me think about my own trip there.
I saw Stonehenge five years ago, in January, so there was not much summer-induced mysticism to be had; it was very cold and grey as only England in January can be. I checked my journal to see what brilliant things I’d written about the trip, and was disappointed to find only some vague thoughts on whether it was a “clock, calendar or cathedral,” and some other words devoted to wondering why the “dual carriageway” was so close by. The trip was taken as my two-year UK visa was about to run out, and so perhaps I was a little distracted.
But I do remember the feeling of the place: magical and timeless, the immensity of the grey stones, the flat expanse of sky above, the bleached-out winter fields spreading out in all directions.
Maybe one day I’ll be lucky enough to go back and see it in the full bloom of summer. Until then, I’ll wear my Stonehenge socks proudly every solstice.