Mid-Summer Madness

Summer

With summer fully (and finally!) here, we are reminded of the sun’s strength and power. The crops are ripening under golden rays, the wheat growing tall and the barley yellowing in the long summer days. What we have sown, what we have tended so dearly to in the early spring, and nurtured throughout a tumultuous season of returning frosts and cold north winds is finally coming towards a harvest. All very nearly ruined by late frosts, many crops – both those of the backyard self-sufficient gardener and that of larger farming industry is showing signs of fruition. Apples are greening on the trees, and flowers have come out in full force, along with the bees and butterflies, moths and beetles.

As we observe what nature shows us in the seasons, flora and fauna, so too do we see a reflection of that in our own lives. At Yule, we dreamt of what we would achieve in the coming year, blessing and dreaming over the seeds at Imbolc, sowing them at the Equinox and, for many of us, planting the seedlings at Beltane (and running them back inside every night with frost warnings!) to grow to fullness in the coming summer months. With the sun at its full height, the days so long and the nights so short, we ride the tide of this high energy, where nothing can stop us as we carry our dreams and aspirations to fruition. But now the tide has turned, and if we have spent ourselves at the time of high summer, we will have nothing left to give when the real work, the harvest-time, begins. So we must learn to pace ourselves, to not over-commit, to nurture ourselves as much as we are nurturing everyone and everything around us in this season of sun-inspired madness.

Here in East Anglia, ever since the North Wind has stopped, the sun has been out in full force, scorching the grass and wilting my tomato plants. The waterbutt has run dry, and everything that I hope to harvest needs special attention, much as I do now. Having just finished a crazy three weeks of working for an international festival, I feel much like my tomato plants, wilting in the heat of the sun, and not as yet bearing fruit (or even flowers). And so I withdraw, into the shade, into my spirituality, soaking up the quiet times of evening’s enchantment, in the cool night air where my soul can expand without withering away in the noon-day sun. Like the deer in the forest, I retreat to cooler climes, seeking shelter and shade. I must prepare myself for the work ahead.

And so I urge you, to take a moment and to rest a while. Do not let all your dreams and work earlier in the year be in vain. Let nature inspire you to follow in its cycle. The real work is yet to come!