Summer

Solstice

Text and Photos by Jac Kyles Baker


When I was young, summer began officially with a holiday or the last day of school.   


Years (many) later, I became a gardener.  Now, without debate, summer begins on summer solstice’s date.


Gardening keeps one in tune with the earth’s seasons and cycles.


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Abundant red unripe blackberries on a leafy shrub.

Abundant red, unripe blackberries (Rubus Alleghenensis) on a leafy shrub.

Wild grape leaves backlit by the setting sun.

Wild grape (Vitis Lambrusca) leaves backlit by the setting sun.

A group of white and yellow fleabane daisy growing in a field.

Wild and pretty:  Fleabane Daisy (Erigeron Annuus) in a meadow.

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I've lived in the Washington, DC area for decades.  And  I can't recall a cloudy summer solstice.  It’s as if the sun anticipates my high expectations.


Summer solstice 2022 didn’t disappoint: an ideal summer day of low humidity, high temperatures in the low 80s.


I take photographs and record videos on the solstices and equinoxes (weather permitting).  It’s my ritual. I wanted to do it for my own sake this year.  Chaotic summers over the last few years means I'll treasure the certainty of the summer solstice.

“Anitek’s Metabones is too sultry for a nature video,” I thought.  No, it’s perfect.  Flowers seduced insects with their scents and nectar.  Winds blew pollen from flower to flower.  Birds sang to each other.  Crickets chirped out mating calls.  Fireflies prepared for their light show. 

The scene deserves a seductive soundtrack.

If you love the summer solstice as much as I do, see my short mobile videos: Meadow Scenes on Summer Solstice and Summer Solstice II .

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Words fail to describe summer solstice’s sensuality. The warm breeze on my skin, the lush smell of the wild flowers, the plants backlit with golden sun rays, the buzzing of bees, birds singing to each other.  


I’m… aligned with nature in a wild oasis between a highway and a main road.  


It’s an experience.  Something to be felt.  Ancients knew something when they honored this day with monuments and festivals.


A carpenter bee sips from the tiny, tubular flowers of light purple common teasel.

Carpenter bees can't get enough of teasel (Dipsacus Fullonum).

A monarch butterfly drinks the nectar of a light purpleteasel flower.

Monarch butterflies and other winged creatures won't snub the flowers of non-native teasel (Dipsacus Fullonum). 

A bumble bee drinks nectar from white common dogbane flowers.

This bumble bee works hard for the nectar of common dogbane's (Apocynum Cannabinum) fleeting flowers.

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How can I express the physical feeling of this oneness?  Hmm…  it’s not easy.  And it shouldn’t be easy.  Because it’s a personal experience.


Ever smell a rose?  It’s like that.  Okay, I’ll explain.  Old roses’ (Apothecary or Rugosa Roses) perfumes affect my heart.*  My chest feels light and expansive.  The boundary between nature and myself dissolves.  If only momentarily.


Now, you get my meaning.  Reading or writing about feeling the summer solstice can’t substitute its reality.


I should be dispassionate.  No, I’ll view it through the eyes of an untrammeled romantic.


A gray and black catbird resting on gravel with grasses growing through.

A gray catbird contemplates... something.  Hear it sing.

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