I like these yearly sun markers. I particularly like the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, when the winter days start getting longer. That is a joyful day for me. The Summer Solstice marks the longest day of the year, and then the days start getting shorter. It’s still a celebration day marking the beginning of warmer weather and the outdoor activities that go along with that.
Scott and I are gardeners. We appreciate the warmer days that allow for digging in the dirt, planting beautiful flowers that attract bees, butterflies, pollinator insects of various kinds, and birds. We are doing container planting since we are in an HOA, and we can’t plant in the common areas. I often say we are doing pot planting but that might give the wrong idea as to what we are actually doing.
In 2003, I moved back to my hometown, Lewistown, Montana, a couple years after 911, and lived there for the next 12 years. My mom and brother still lived there. I had a good-sized group of lady friends with whom I re-established old friendships with along with new friends that I made when I got there. Every year, these ladies celebrated the four sun events; Spring Equinox, Summer Solstice, Autumnal Equinox, and the Winter Solstice. These celebrations were mainly potluck gatherings at someone’s home with wine and mixed drinks. We generally had an exchange of some kind. One year, we were to bring a hat and explain why we had it or what prompted us to get or buy it in the first place, along with any story or detail that went with the hat. I brought a beautiful white felt brimmed hat with a wide cream colored grosgrain ribbon around the crown that was fastened with a tailored bow. It had a wide-holed veil that loosely bunched around the front half of the brim. It was classy and fashionable in any day-in-age. I don’t recall when or why I bought the hat other than I was struck by its understated elegance.
So, the story that went with the hat involved a new acquaintance that I had when I first moved into the townhouse complex after my divorce from a 35-year marriage. His name was Wes. Wes lived just across the walkway from me.
Wes taught Seattle millionaires how to drive their fancy sports cars on the Evergreen Speedway in Monroe, Washington. He invited me to go to the Speedway one summer Saturday to watch the drivers. While there, one of the other spectators drove up in a yellow Spyder convertible kit car. Wes and I were looking over the car when the owner stopped by to answer any questions we might have. He appeared to be older than me and nice looking. I was intrigued as we chatted more. One thing led to another, and this guy, Brian, invited me to go for a drive in his Spyder the next Saturday. He said to be sure and wear a hat. He didn’t specify what kind of hat. That Saturday rolled around. I dressed up for the outing with nice slacks, a dressy blouse, low heals, and “that hat.” Brian held the door for me as I lowered myself into the very low seat, fastened the seat belt, and donned my fancy hat.
Brian look quizzically at me as he stepped over the driver’s side door and eased into the driver’s seat. He shifted into first gear and slowly drove out of the parking lot and onto the freeway ramp. He glanced over at me and said, “It that the hat you’re going to wear?”
I jerked back in an auto-response of surprise and slight indignation, replying, “Of course!”
He laughed, “You don’t have a baseball cap? I mean, really!”
Defiantly, I said, “Nope! This will be fine.”
I’m not sure I had ever worn a baseball cap, and certainly, no such thing could be found in my house.
He laughed, knowing that I will never see that hat again once he steps on the gas… which he immediately did.
He put the Spyder in gear, stepped on the gas and launched onto the freeway at about 60 miles an hour. He was just getting started. I could feel my lovely hat starting to loosen on my head. I liked that hat, so I yanked it down more and held it in place with my right hand. I glance over at the speedometer. The indicator arrow was now at 85 miles an hour. The wind was whipping over the windshield and caught the brim of my hat just right so it flipped off my head. Thank goodness I still gripped the brim of the hat or it would be long gone. That did it. I shoved it on the floor under my legs. I looked over, and Brian was laughing as he stepped on the gas that much harder. I stopped looking at the speedometer. He had turned his baseball cap around so that the brim was facing down the back of his neck. No way was he going to lose his hat. My hair was whipping around in every which way. I prided myself in a “no-hair-out-of-place” hairdo. Guess I should have had a hat like Brian’s. If Brian is still alive, I bet he tells that story of the lady who dressed for a dinner date with fancy wide brimmed hat that he took on a fast-drive freeway outing.
That was my contribution and story that went with the hat for the Solstice celebration.
Another year, we were to bring something that we had made for a gift exchange. I pondered this quit some time. I am a good cook and baker. I considered taking something that I had cooked or baked – casserole, canned pickles, homemade jam, or homemade baked cinnamon rolls or bread. Any of those would have been great. I do crafts and watercolor and colored pencil art works. One of those would have been good. Then I happened upon bringing a copy of my poems. I have some thirty odd poems that I have written over the years, several of which I wrote when my two boys were little, and I was a stay-at-home mom. These poems are on my computer, so I just had to print them off on nice paper and bind them on my office comb binding machine. I used a copy of one of my colored pencil drawings as a cover, so it was a double gift in a way. These poems are very personal and follow several years of my life in what I thought and experiences I had. I was proud and pleased with my contribution. It wasn’t the first item to go in the gift exchange, but it wasn’t the last.
Each year, when I was in Lewistown and the Summer Solstice gathering was planned, I would be sure and ask my mom if she would like to come along. I told her she knew several of the women, and she would be more than welcome. To make the invitation a bit more fun, I would invite her by saying, “Mom, my lady friends and I are celebrating the Summer Solstice next Saturday evening. We are having dinner, and then we’ll be dancing naked under the moon and stars. Please say ‘yes’ that you will come.”
Every year, she would graciously decline, saying with a disgusted frown on her face that those were my friends that I should go and have a good time. Once she made up her mind, there was little chance of changing it, so I let it go at that.
Finally, one year she caught me by surprise when I asked her to join me for the naked dancing Summer Solstice Celebration she said, “My Dear, I know you’ve ask me several times a year for years now. I have always said no to your invitation. This time, I seriously considered joining you, but regrettably, I have to decline. You know how particular I am about how I look when I go out. I always want to look well put together and well dressed. I looked at my birthday suit this morning, and it’s too wrinkled. I don’t see a way to get those wrinkles iron out. So I won’t be joining you and your friends.”
Oh, she had a fun sense of humor at times. We both laughed. I still laugh to this day thinking about her standing there in the kitchen with her arms crossed as she often did telling me her birthday suit was too wrinkled to be dancing under the night sky.
I won’t be dancing naked under the stars and moonlight tonight. We live in a townhome community. I don’t want to get arrested for being a public nuisance or indecent exposure. I will have a glass of wine and toast the advent of summer and the joys that summer days bring. I won’t think about the days getting shorter. That will come when the Autumnal Equinox rolls around. Happy Summer Solstice to you.
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