By Beth Schreibman Gehring
Long before calendars and clocks, before schedules and spreadsheets, there were the sun and the stars and those of us who watched them closely—gardeners, healers, farmers, mothers. The summer solstice, the longest day of the year, was a sacred moment. A time of warmth and waiting, of ripening berries and blooming roses, of hands deep in the soil and hearts lifted to the sun.
For me, this day has always held a special kind of magic.

The summer solstice is a time when the natural world is ablaze with life, when the energies of light and warmth are at their peak. This celestial dance of light and shadow held profound significance for our ancestors. It was a time of celebration and thanks for the coming harvests, and a time to relax for a bit and play. Still today, some cultures celebrate by kindling fires, symbolizing the transformative power of the sun, and many communities gather to dance, sing, and rejoice in the abundance of the season.


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