Full Moon Solstice

     The ancients measured time by the moon, but they built monuments to the solstice. In monolithic stone structures, sunrise on the winter and summer solstice shines through narrow openings to light up shrines to the returning sun. Seasons, the re-birth of life, were so marked and paid homage to, the progress of time and lifetimes measured by the mysterious, unfailing, yet hopeful long and shortest days.

     In 1985 the moon was full on the night of the summer solstice. We know now, in the strict principles of physics and the collected knowledge of astronomy, the how and why of lunar cycles and solstice days. The moon circles Earth and reflects sunlight in a repeating pattern of shadow and light; the Earth wobbles and days grow longer, then shorter, then longer again. Yet there is a mystic fascination with such phenomenon, within and beyond our naked senses' comprehension. This coinciding of ordinary events was, in fact, a rare occurrence, in human terms.

     I went for a paddle that evening, accompanied by three others. There were twenty or more who should have joined us, members of our little club of ancient water travelers. To me this evening was the perfect moment, our small muscle powered boats the ideal altar, and marsh-encircled Lord's Cove the proper setting, for our own humbly reverent observation of this monument in time and space.  But only two came to join me, plus an accidental straggler. Perhaps the others were too civilized, or constrained by civilized obliges, to partake in our paganist celebration. We set off into the warm, humid evening.

     On the longest day of the year one has time to contemplate the sunset. From the cockpit of a kayak, sitting at water level, the rivers' expanse gives a panoramic view of the western shore; marsh, rocky beach, trees, houses. On that night all were backlit by a hot, simmering sun, a ball of orange hanging, sinking, yet still in full view as we reached the cove. This solstice sun shone just north of west from where we pulled our boats through the timeless river waters.

     
     The moon rose early, just south of east, bright orange against the muggy sky. From behind the trees topping the riverbank and hills it rose, giving more light and length to this longest day. Perhaps the ancients, undistracted by artificial things, would have expected this; that solstice sun and full moon would occupy the same sky at the same time, two brilliant orange orbs marking the month and the start of another summer season.