windinthemaples

Mirroring our celebration of Midsummer, Sunday was a time of waning as various guests departed or prepared to depart. Laura,

atempestcyclone, had left Saturday and Lena

lenaperry, still feeling ill, left Sunday morning to drive home. The rest of us loaded into two cars and drove out to Letchworth State Park. The park styles itself as the "Grand Canyon of the East" with the Genesee River running through cliffs and over three stunning waterfalls. We'd picked up lunch foods at the grocery store on the way to the park, so we stopped at an overlook with giant stone picnic tables and had lunch before strolling along the tree-shaded trails to two of the waterfalls to take pictures and soak up some of that green, misty, summer energy. In one spot, graceful turkey vultures and a huge flock of what looked like pigeons banked and soared along the cliff faces, riding the thermals in daring, dancing ways.

After a couple hours, we loaded back up to head home. Maddie

lathriel left us there and we nervously eyed the gray skies and packed a picnic hamper to go see Much Ado About Nothing at Buffalo's outdoor Shakespeare in the Park. On arrival, sadly, the misty downfall became an out and out downpour, forcing us to make alternate plans. We drove over to Amy's, this awesome greasy diner with all-day breakfast and tons of vegan foods. Sitting in the booth, my kidney stone went from its normal dull ache to radiating pain and nausea. It was an attack so painful I thought, for sure, we'd have to go to the hospital. I was calculating my options and finding it so hard to even think through all that pain, trying to compartmentalize it so I could focus on something else. Should I try to get a flight back to Chicago and then a taxi to the hospital, where my urologist could be called for emergency surgery? Should I go to the hospital in Buffalo? What could they do? How would I get home? How would Daniel handle the extra days with Graeme when he has other work obligations? I didn't have any good ideas. (Though I did get to eat an awesome vegan B.L.T sandwich.)

After dinner, we ran through the cold downpour to our cars, getting soaked and shrieking happily in the process. I got some Motrin at the gas station, took 800mg, and just kinda hung in there on the long ride home. That Motrin did *nothing* for my pain. It was worse than labor pains, hands-down, and I was stranded so far from home. At the house, Sarah brought me a flourite egg for pain and Jenn contributed a hot water bottle for my back and finally, finally!, the pain let up enough for me to think clearly again. It eased enough for me to sleep and in the morning, thank gods, I felt better.

Karyn

belladonnastrap headed home on Sunday morning. She returned to NYC as somewhat of a combat-wounded soldier. While in town she'd a) gotten her first tattoo and b) been bitten by numerous mosquitoes. Now, we'd all been victim to bug bites, no matter how much bug spray (both natural and chemically toxic) and citronella candles we'd used. Some got bug bite bumps, some didn't, but poor Karyn really reacted to the bites. Some were big raised welts several inches across. No amount of ointment or Benadryl eased the misery of itching. Some souvenir! She was quite a trooper about it!

So Monday morning, Sarah and Jenn left with Karyn for the airport and were gone a couple hours. That left just Rhiannon and I at the house as we weren't leaving until Tuesday morning. We decided to vacuum some of pet fur up off the living room rug. We could only find a shop vac, and turning it on it had almost zero suction power. So we took it out onto the back deck and opened it up and emptied out the canister. The filter was clogged, so we dismantled that and beat the hell out of it over some unfortunate plants behind the house. Then we got back inside with it and realized how impossible a task it is to vacuum up fur from wall-to-wall carpeting with a hose attachment and no spinning brush. I don't know, taking the shop vac apart was the magic geranium moment. We beautified/fixed one thing and our attention was drawn to the next. One thing led to another and the next thing you knew, we'd carried all of the dining room furniture out onto the back deck and started vacuuming and dusting and mopping and scrubbing and spring-cleaning like maniacs. Every dish, pot, and platter that Sarah and Jenn owned was piled three feet high in the sink after our long weekend of partying, so by the time that they got home, we announced that we wanted to clean for our last day there. I think the look we got, standing in the middle of an empty room with all the furniture and stuff outside, could best be described as "deer in headlights". Sarah was like, "But....you're on vacation!" and we were like, "Yeah, but we don't want you to have to go back to work tomorrow with your house still upturned from the weekend!". And, miracle of miracles, we won the argument. :D

Rhiannon and Jenn tackled the daunting dish pile while Sarah and I went to Target to get a vacuum cleaner and some other supplies we needed. Then, reunited, we spent the day companionably cleaning. It was huge fun, to be honest, and we got a ton accomplished together. Later in the evening, we got to preview some future Glamourkin updates (OMG), Rhiannon made her nomlicious vegan mushroom stroganoff dish which we ate with fresh-baked rosemary bread and vegan butter and we watched that Dr. Horrible musical short that came out last year(?) and part of Sky High before hitting the hay. Tuesday morning, we packed up and rode in with J & S, who dropped us off at the airport for our flights on their way to work. :)

My weekend was absolutely wonderful. It had a lot of Solstice lessons for me. It wasn't wonderful because it unfurled unblemished and according-to-plan, but was wonderful in its perfectly imperfect blend of light and dark. The love, the joy, the companionship of community and family made everything magickal, precious, and blessed. It rained, we battled mosquitoes, there was a lot of illness going around and some truly not-ideal moments. My glorious white tutu both made me feel like a princess and trapped dozens of wayward black flies in its gauzy layers. The weekend was just, well frankly, it was life and it was perfect just the way it was.

Jenn, Karyn, Katie, Laura, Lena, Maddie, Pete, Rhiannon, Sarah-- I love you all. Thank you for sharing these memories with me. I will always be here, with my little scalding candle, if you need a light. <3 :)

( Photos from Sunday's hike at Letchworth here. )
As always, I have a ton more photos on my Flickr page. :)

Saturday night, after eating cupcakes and hula hooping and declaring war on any mosquitoes that so much as looked cross-eyed at us, we dressed for a starlit ritual. I traded my all-white faerie costume for an all-black ritual gown and a red hooded cloak. Sarah showed up, equally transformed, in all white. We both kinda laughed when we saw each other. She joked that we looked like the priestesses from that L.J. Smith trilogy, The Secret Circle, with good Diana in white and selfish, dark magick Faye in black. :p Thanks, Sarah. :D

A few weeks ago, Sarah and I had powwowed about the ritual logistics. We discussed a few themes and we knew that we wanted to leave people with a physical token of the departing Sun's energy. Neither one of us knew where we could get that much citrine on short notice, but I remembered this amazing bead and jewelry-making shop nearby that carries a lot of semi-precious beads. Maybe they'd have something we could use as a charged token? Walking in with Graeme one afternoon, it seemed like a grin from the universe to find a bowl of rough citrine immediately by the front door, for sale by the gram. I stocked up and we were set. :D Other than that, and the suggestion of a walking candle meditation, we didn't solidify anything. Sarah said, "Well, how good are you on the fly?" and I said, "I'm really good on the fly" and so we went into ritual with some idea of what Midsummer meant to us, the intention of distributing citrine, and not much more. At ritual conspiracy, element callers had volunteered themselves and we got to talk about what Midsummer means to us, what this Midsummer means to us as a group. Heart stuff.

( Objectively, I can say that some things worked and some things didn't quite get there. )

Sarah and Jenn's backyard is big, but not as big as it feels. With some creative mowing and pruning, they created paths and sacred spots in the midst of wild meadow and pine stands. Thistle and blackberry bushes and wild grasses head-high make the winding paths seem mythical. So in the dark, we walked down a little side path out of sight of the house that curved into a sudden small circular clearing for ritual. At the center of our circle, two tin mosquito-warding candle buckets threw light across the faces of the participants as we sat in circle with drums and soundmakers, coming into sync with each other. I beat my palms happily into the bottom of a spaghetti pot made sacred, feeling like I could drum my very heart's happiness up into the star field. The song naturally ended and we moved to ground and begin with the circle casting and calling of the elements. Sarah and I fell into an easy double voice, back and forth, meeting the needs we felt and trying to stay in touch with the energy of the circle.

Really, I haven't the foggiest idea what was said. I wasn't really the one talking, frankly, so the words came easy from another place that I was more spectator to than anything. The bounty of Midsummer giving us all that we needed, both physically and metaphorically, for the dark days ahead on the Wheel. The bittersweet sensation of being both at the peak of the light season and a step away from the dark, of feeling that life was shifting and we were to shift along with it.

Everyone got a lit white tealight, including me, and we scattered in the darkness of the woods and the meadow and the tent city beyond to have our moments of walking meditation. I found a curve in the path I liked, from where I could see lone candle flames flickering in the distance in many directions, and yet ahead of me nothing but wild, untamed plantlife. I held that flame up and thought how small and mighty that light was. How comforting to see the tiny lights of others, faint floating faerie lights, who without the candle I'd have never known surrounded me in the night-silent woods and fields beyond. I was not alone, though I could have easily felt that way if I hadn't looked around. I had enough light for me to see by but not much idea of the landscape around me. At one point, the cup of the tealight tilted and my palm was scalded in one white wax wash. I hissed in pain, immediately fixating on the experience and wishing it hadn't happened. The light, though, unhindered by a pool of liquid wax, was flaring brighter, bigger, bolder as a result. How often in life do I try to rewind and wish away sudden dark moments instead of seeing the way the light in me can grow because of the experience? Hasn't all my most valuable personal, spiritual growth been the gift of dark times that changed me, that cleared out what I didn't need, and helped me breath a little? I was meant to spill the wax. I cannot control the candle, the Wheel, the world. I am not in control of what happens, only how I choose to view and respond to what does happen.

The wax spills, the flame grows, the wax builds again.

I have been given all the supplies I need for the days ahead. The Sun's light may be waning, but the light within me is waxing in counterpoint. Around me, in community, the Sun's light has become internalized and we'll all, as a tribe, get through the season of darkness together. I need only open my eyes and see the lights around me to know that I'm never alone.

We are all moving through the dark together, separately, and we are all carrying light with us. Enough to share, enough for us all.

This past weekend, I flew to New York to take part in Sarah

mermaiden and Jenn

willow_cabin's First Annual Midsummer Faerie Celebration, an outdoor costumed tea party the hostesses had been dreaming up for awhile. I can't imagine a more perfect community in which to celebrate Litha, the turning of the seasons from growing light to growing darkness.

Friday, after a day spent in a Rosemont hotel entertaining Graeme while Daniel spoke at an expert witness conference, I got all glammed up and went to the airport. I *love* flying to New York because it is the quickest flight, just an hour and a half, so travel doesn't take all day the way a lot of our destinations do. I had on some high heeled espadrilles, though, and the miles-long walk through O'Hare was less then comfy. Oh, vanity! :D I just loved knowing I wouldn't have to carry a toddler around, so it felt like I could get away with all kinds of things. :) Getting to Buffalo, I was pretty distracted. I'd arranged Rhiannon

rubymulligan's flight to arrive around mine but I couldn't remember if she was coming in a little ahead of my schedule or a little behind. Should I try to find her gate and wait there, or go out and get my bag at the baggage claim? She wasn't answering her phone and I was feeling very responsible for her. I wasn't even sure who would be picking us up! I figured I'd head out to get my luggage. And there, already waiting just outside security, lined up and grinning and waving with great excitement were Sarah and Jenn, as well as Lena

lenaperry and Karyn

belladonnastrap, the first guests who'd arrived earlier in the day. Lena even had a bakery box with two vegan cupcakes for us in her hands! Ha! In a movie, I'd have run crying down the hallway and thrown myself in their arms, but instead it was like, "Oh, hey, good to meet you/see you again. Have you heard from Rhiannon? What should we do? I'm worried about Rhiannon. I wish I'd printed out her flight information. Do you know her flight information?" while blocking the exit from security. :D In time, Rhiannon resurfaced, my luggage circled around on the claim belt, and we piled ourselves into two cars for the drive to Sarah and Jenn's house.

( Friday night, Saturday's party, and tons of photos under here. )
Such a wonderful day! In future posts, I'll write about the ritual and the rest of our weekend. There is so much to cover!! In the meantime, many many many more photos from Saturday are up on my Flickr site.

PS- Oh, another little thing. During the weekend, Sarah and Jenn passed around a wooden box filled with a tumble of crystals and minerals in every color. We each picked one randomly as a divination/intention/gift of the weekend. Mine, a marbled thing I'd never seen before, was fossilized fern, which Sarah said was for remembrances. Pretty awesome. :) I know my memories of this weekend are fixed in stone.