Summer Solstice

Why it's sacred to me.

Happy summer solstice everyone. Today holds a special place in my heart. Not because of the revelries at Stonehenge (something I’ve not experienced but hope to one day), not because I’ve enjoyed myself at festivals or because I’m reminiscing about midsummer nights spent with friends in the past. It’s because on this day my wishes come true. Each and every year I’ve dropped them into the fire or whispered them to flower petals and cast them to the wind, each and every one has come true. There’s a true sense of magic on this day each year, intangible, uncatchable, indescribable, just a knowing, a feeling, a push that comes from somewhere deep inside, to embrace the moment and make the most of it.

Photo credit: Tom Fisk on Canva

It’s easy for me to feel FOMO at this time of year, that feeling of missed opportunities, an unwelcome tug of loneliness as I imagine so many kindred spirits celebrating the solstice, seeing the sunrise at Stonehenge, dancing around bonfires and enjoying the longest night of the year. It’s a different season of life for me, I know this will all come in time but right now I have two little ones at home to look after. I have to remind myself that this season of life is short lived, they won’t be this dependent on me forever and I know I shall miss it when their little hands no longer reach for me, when they’re not nuzzling into my thighs. There was a festival I longed to go to this year, one I promised myself I would go to with a friend, but it wasn’t to be. Childcare isn’t easily available for me and my husband’s job demands weekend work. So instead of dwelling on the FOMO, I count my blessings and find myself inventing my own solstice celebration (one that includes two mischief makers) and it begins by greeting the sun with a coffee in hand (not the sunrise, my need for sleep over-rides the desire to be up at 4.30am!). So in case it’s of interest for anyone in similar circumstances, here is my cheat’s guide to celebrating the summer solstice.

Litha is the modern(ish) name for this date on the Celtic / Neo-Pagan wheel of the year. There are countless lists online of magical correspondences spanning colours, crystals, herbs and solar deities relating to this fire festival, and as much as I love the books and witchy social media content, the solstice is a day that feels sacred and personal to me, so I tune it all out and focus on what feels right to me.

I tend to gravitate towards different crystals each year and today it’s ruby fuchsite, a smooth cool stone that sits in the palm of my hand, a beautiful combination of blue and green reminding me of both land and sea, speckled with embossed scales of deep pink and purple. Tiny silver stars glitter as I turn it between my fingers and its energy feels like the perfect companion for the day. I love to wear the same dress on midsummer each year. Its long floaty sleeves, wrap around waist revealing a thigh-high split and trailing back, make it feel more like a magical cloak and completely impractical for everyday use. My son and I set up an altar in the garden, a pretty silk scarf held down at the corners with orange calcite, citrine, rose quartz and amethyst. A yellow candle in the middle is surrounded by dandelions, rose petals, chamomile and lavender (a combination to honor the sun, nurture love, bring harmony and peace of mind), three cards sit behind the candle, the sun from the tarot, the fire guardian from my angels and ancestors deck and marigold from The Green Witch Oracle. We light a charcoal disk in a little cast iron cauldron, hold a small bunch of lavender each and make our wishes before dropping them in to burn. My son gets so excited to see the smoke spiral up into the air and I tell him it’s the magic taking our wishes up to the sky.

Afternoon activities include cutting oranges in half and scooping out the fruit to create cups, enjoying the oranges in the sunshine and filling the cups with peanut butter and birdseed to hang from our tree. Slicing and drying any smaller ones to hang from the windows like tiny stained glass suns. Mixing yellow and orange paints with gold glitter and making handprint paintings and baking a peach pudding, my son’s new favourite (the recipe will be on my upcoming podcast episode).

None of this will look impressive or compete with a trip to Glastonbury or a midsummer festival with friends but it will feel special to me. My daughter’s due date was the summer solstice two years ago, and I sat there at 4.30 am, sipping tea and watching the livestream from Stonehenge, hands on my tummy and wondering if today was the day I’d get to hold her in my arms. It was such a special moment and one I’ll remember for years to come. Today isn’t special to me for the (much debated) Celtic history but for the memories made over the years, the moments I’ve created, the spiritual connection and the push to really live in the moment, just for a day.