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Is The Summer Solstice The Top Of The Hill For Life?

Michael, my Mi’kmaq friend; 

Sister Darling, of the

Rarified Church of the World (reformed);

Paw, the cat/kitten,

Black as smudge

With one white mitten;

And myself,

The Lighthouse Keeper

Of Partridge Island;

Are banded together to celebrate

The twenty-first day of June

The Summer Solstice

The first day of summer.

Really, say what you will, 

We are all going to stay out 

Until the sun goes down.

Michael points to trees, leaves

And shadows,

To explain the importance 

Of the Day.

Sister Darling quotes parts

Of Genesis, and the sun, 

And what happened when

All was in place.

I have some seafaring instruments,

And twist dials, and

Slide pieces of metal

To prove summer’s existence.

And

Of course

There is a FEAST!

Michael brings a haunch,

And steaks,

Of Venison.

Sister Darling brings

Two pots of stew,

And two rhubarb pies.

I have delved into my

Bread recipes and

Offer three different selections.

And Paw, the cat/kitten

Catches a plump robin,

But he lets it go.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2025 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report.

DE BA. UEL

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Casting A Prayer Onto The Sea For Summer Solstice

Sister Darling, of

The Rarefied Church Of The World (Reformed),

Is not a selfish gal

Except – perhaps –
On the business of the Lord.

So, when she transported herself

Through the kind intervention

Of a fishing boat,

To Partridge Island,

In this sweltering heat,

To celebrate the Summer Solstice,

I don’t believe it was just

To be cool,

Even though the Island

Is the coolest place you could be,

Surrounded by water, and ocean breezes,

As it is.

She scooped up Paw, The Cat/Kitten

Black as Agate

With one white mitten,

(He never minds being part

Of her adventures)

And off we went, at a quick clip.

From the Lighthouse we aimed for

The very tip of the Island.

Jutting into the sea.

She put down Paw.

Hauled out a timepiece and chain,

(It had been her fathers)

And flicked open the lid.

“Four minutes,” she said.

And when that time had passed

She intoned a Celtic prayer:

“O mother ocean, welcome me in your arms,
bathe me in your waves,
and keep me safe
so that I may return to land once more.”

“Is that not a Heretic prayer?” I asked.

“Don’t be so narrow – it is All the same God.”

She didn’t open her eyes,

But pointed directly at Paw,

And the crazy little bugger

Nodded his head.

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2024 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

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The Shortest Day Of The Year . . . Again

It’s the shortest day

Of the year.


~ The December Solstice ~

As old Sol
Shifts his ass
Over the Equator.
Then the days
Get longer,
And the weather
Gets warmer.


Hah hah / Hah hah.

I told this to
Paw, my cat/kitten,
Black as hidden ice,
With one white mitten,
And,
If he didn’t laugh outright
He at least,
Smiled.

(I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island / 1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

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The Days Get Longer But Paw, The Cat/Kitten, Sleeps Through It On Partridge Island

The sun slides through the Solstice

(I’ve seen this, under sail, on my days at sea),

And the sun hangs, then moves on.

The days start getting longer.

Praise the Lord!

Not that you can really notice for a while.

It isn’t inches,

It’s less than inches,

Until . . .

Why, “Jumping Jehoshaphat!”

There’s sunshine you can even tell by the clock.

Making the night retreat just a little bit earlier.

Maybe Paw, my cat/kitten

Black as the retreating night

With one white mitten,

Will want to stay out

Just a little bit longer.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report

DE BA. UEL

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The Shortest Day Of The Year Does Not Impress The Cat

It’s the shortest day

Of the year,
As old Sol
Shifts his ass
Over the Equator.
Then the days
Get longer,
And the weather
Gets warmer.
Hah hah / Hah hah.

I told this to
Paw, the cat/kitten,
Black as hidden ice,
With one white mitten,
And,
If he didn’t laugh outright
He at least,
Smiled.
(I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}DE BA. UEL

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My Father’s War Encounter During The Summer Solstice

I don’t post this every first day of summer (tempting though it is), but I find it neat to have such a connection to the Celts, about whom I have written three novels

During World War Two, my father had the unique experience of guarding Stonehenge. Not by himself, of course, there were other members of the Canadian Army with him.

The vast plains around Stonehenge were utilised by the military in both world wars. During the First War, the area was a training ground for troops from various countries. There were many encampments for recruits, with both basic training and preparations to train for the trench warfare awaiting on the continent. There were thousands and thousands of men, and huge amounts of supplies.

During the Second War, the area was used as staging ground for the D-Day invasion. There was great security, and as much secrecy as possible. Soldiers were in place to guard the perimeter.

So, my father found himself not only guarding Stonehenge, but doing so on Midsummer Morn, when the sun rose over the monument. He was a learned man – a school teacher – and versed in the history of the place. He knew of the Celts and the Druids and some of the mythology. He knew this was sacred ground and that Midsummer Morn was especially important. He might have paused and tried to look into the past, and see more in the morning mist than was actually there. I do not know.

He did, however, when their shift was over and they got to eat, tell the other soldiers of the history of the place. He mentioned that, during such celebrations by the Celts, the Druids might have a virgin killed to appease the gods. The other soldiers were shocked.


“What a waste,” said one

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The Summer Solstice Could Be Bad For Virgins

Thousands Gather To Celebrate Summer Solstice At Stonehenge
I have an odd connection to the Summer Solstice, and it is via Stonehenge. My father guarded the structure, and did so on Midsummer Day.

During the Second World War, it was feared that Germany would invade England. Many of the Canadian soldiers stationed in England were spread in a wide circle around London. An outright invasion would be a do-or-die situation, and Canadian soldiers had it been known to them – without direct orders – that no prisoners were to be taken.

One of the areas put under guard was Stonehenge. Though less so now, at that time Stonehenge was surrounded by vast planes. It was feared the Germans might use these open areas for paratroopers, and also gliders full of troops. Thus the area was defended.

My father was part of this protection, and it so happened that he stood guard duty near Stonehenge itself on Midsummer Day, and watched the sun rise over the monument.

He was aware of the significance of both time and place, as many of his comrades might not be.

Indeed, when he informed them that the Celts, at one time, sacrificed virgins on altars at Stonehenge, they expressed – in more earthy soldier language than I am going to use – “What a waste.”

(Image)https://timedotcom.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/summer-solstice.jpeg

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On Guard At Stonehenge For The Summer Solstice

salisbury-stonehenge

I do find it grand to have such this connection to the Celts, about whom I have written three novels.

During World War Two, my father had the unique experience of guarding Stonehenge. Not by himself, of course, there were other members of the Canadian Army with him.

The vast plains around Stonehenge were utilised by the military in both world wars. During the First War, the area was a training ground for troops from various countries. There were many encampments for recruits, with both basic training and preparations to train for the trench warfare awaiting on the continent. There were thousands and thousands of men, and huge amounts of supplies.

During the Second War, the area was used as staging ground for the D-Day invasion. There was great security, and as much secrecy as possible. Soldiers were in place to guard the perimeter.

So, my father found himself not only guarding Stonehenge, but doing so on Midsummer Morn, when the sun rose over the monument.
He was a learned man – a school teacher – and versed in the history of the place. He knew of the Celts and the Druids and some of the mythology. He knew this was sacred ground and that Midsummer Morn was especially important.
He might have paused and tried to look into the past, and see more in the morning mist than was actually there. I do not know.

He did, however, when their shift was over and they got to eat, tell the other soldiers of the history of the place.
He mentioned that, during such celebrations by the Celts, the Druids might have a virgin killed to appease the gods.
They were aghast.

“What a waste,” said one
.
DE
(image)//media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/02/e1/1d/c3/salisbury-stonehenge.jpg

 

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