Last night friends gathered here at the farm for another Summer Solstice Celebration.
We started with food, of course.
Home-grown carrots, broccoli, fennel, kohlrabi, and celtuce with dips ... favamole, sour cream and onion/dill, red and green salsas ...all containing our own vegetables and herbs. Also lemonade with the last of our June-bearing strawberries. Friends brought various slaws, salads, pastas, and crisps. I made curried chicken pilaf from one of our stewing hens, cilantro root, and rice. Steve's famous cheesecake made a late appearance, as did several home-brewed festive beverages.
Some games like kadima, takraw and frisbee erupted amongst anyone not-too-stuffed for such things, then a group of us hiked up the butte to a meadow studded with delicate wildflowers. In the meadow some folks sang, some told stories or watched interesting cloud formations.
Then back down the hill for more food! Conversation quieted as darkness fell and we watched the crescent moon, Jupiter, and Venus assert themselves from behind a cloudy mist. Gradually we returned to our respective beds, whether in house or tent, to wrest as much sleep as possible from the shortest night.
This morning I began my Fathers' Day observance by remembering a man whose physical presence has been gone for almost a year. On this day last year I called him on the telephone. Cables and satellites are no longer needed to communicate with Dad. Over breakfast I re-read condolence letters from students, colleagues, and friends of Dad's. While feasting on Solstice leftovers I feasted on the things people value about my father.
This season's bounty and light, the kindness of friends, everything that tastes, sounds, and looks wonderful, these are all part of the same love that made my father (and me), and which still abounds in his absence. What a privilege it is to be a part of this cycle.
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