I‘ve been up since before sunrise. I actually like being awake at dawn. There is a chorus of birds that sing praises to the twilight and I love hearing them. My new baby girl slept from 9.30 or 10pm to 4.30am. She is an excellent baby! I nursed her in the wee hours of dawn and tried to go back to sleep. But then my son had a nightmare and crawled into bed with me.
I realized how little we get to snuggle and have gentle touch with no agenda (not wrestling or while we’re reading, or with the middle child on the other side of me, or while watching anything). After a while the middle child did her typical morning crawl in next to mama routine, so son went back to his bed. I nursed the baby again. And then….. the sun was up and so was I.
I went for a walk. A Solstice morning walk. Chill air, warm sun. I was surprised at how many cars were out at 6.30 in the morning on a Saturday. I walked 1/2 a mile to an overlook where I could see the water, the town, and glorious Mt. Rainier rising in the morning mist. I sat and meditated. A crow sat above me and yacked at me the entire time. A heron flew over head.
I started this post then. It is now most of the way through my Solstice day. Chores, crying babies, mouths to feed, books to read, children to attend to (oldest kid got a hair cut! finally!!) all took priority over getting this up. Having a new baby is slow work! Everything takes longer, including blogging, including my spiritual practice. Same with settling into a house. This house came with an enormous garden. The yard is small, but the garden is probably the footprint size of a small house.
Eight and half weeks ago we moved house. Eight and half weeks ago I delivered a baby in the new living room. At the time my husband and I thought maybe we’d throw a house warming party and blessing ritual at Solstice. Now it’s Solstice weekend and ….. we got nothing. Nothing planned for Solstice. I’m hoping that maybe by August we’ll be ready.
But today I was up with the sun. I had a few unexpected hours to myself. I got to feel the trees and birds and air without too much interruption, only the intermittent cars and my persistently talky brain interrupting the sounds of Solstice. I can’t complain. It was a great Midsummer gift.