Midsummer Love Letter

The summer solstice came and went yesterday without me even stopping to acknowledge it. The day was filled with meetings on campus and long Skype dates with far-flung friends under the oak tree, and after having dinner later on in the evening, I immediately went to bed to snooze it all off.

I've been living here in Ben Lomond for over two years -- how is it that I'm only now taking advantage of the
electrical output under the oak tree? All I need out there now is a small table and I'm all set with a new summer office.

Though last night was officially Midsummer's Eve -- and today the first day of summer -- I'm holding off until Saturday night to celebrate the solstice. I'm celebrating the Spanish way, the witchy way, on St. John's Eve, what I've always known as la noche de San Juan. 

The Spanish version of the original Old Christian/Pagan tradition would call for a bonfire on a beach -- either on the ocean or river bank or lake -- and midnight bathing and bonfire jumping, as well as late night herb collecting, but I think I'll try a more quiet and cozy adaptation of the fire and water rituals from here at home. All my friends are away, and though my trusty Spaghetti Western side-kick Mr. Coe would love nothing more than a midnight adventure for two, lighting bonfires on the dog beach, I think we'll be better off at the house. BECAUSE IT'S GOING TO BE SPOOKY OUT THERE. This noche de San Juan is supposed to be extra special due to the fact that we're currently in a new moon -- the magic is said to be extra strong,  ooh la la! So, those of you looking to avoid witchy influences in your life, stay out of the dark and light a candle or three! And for those of you wanting to embrace the witchiness, take advantage of this most important Witches' Sabbath, your spells and incantations should be exponentially more powerful. I'll report back on my own shenanigans Saturday night.

Speaking of witchy, spooky things, check out my afternoon reading:  

Marina Warner's Phantasmagoria (2006) is of special interest these days.

More on those later. 

Heaven is a hammock and stack of spooky reading on a summer afternoon, indeed. And gazpacho. I still have so, so, so much gazpacho.