Solstice Glows Orange

like a salmonberry...

Sometimes, when the sun doesn't shine, you have to look extra hard for beauty. This means slowing down, changing your definitions, altering your expectations. And when you look through this lens, you'll always find it. Beauty.

Happy Summer Solstice, Walker Creek. Liquid sunshine, golden berries, glowing children.

[P.S. Much as it may appear, the sun did actually shine on the actual Solstice. M & I watched a gaggle of nine children, who had a heavenly time playing outside together in the Meadow, and later our family played at the creek near the watering hole - the air felt just warm enough that I plunged into the deep part of the cool creek. And came out renewed.]

Ah, Fall Equinox, Bittersweet Friend

The last day of 2010 summer washed away here at Walker Creek. Rain, rain and - more rain. Our monthly Community Meeting rolls around at 7pm. We each trod in, heavy sodden steps - our boots, our souls. The weight of a thousand wet dark nights presses down on us. Warmed by the fire, the air lightens slightly after sharing a hot pan of cashew ginger fried rice and a bowl of sunshine-y organic peaches.

Fall is a time when the land at Walker Creek shines brightest - the greens at their most vibrant, the air at its most fresh. The dying copper salmon are on their return.

And still - we leave behind us a sweet summer - two celebrations on the land: Joe & Miyabi's wedding celebration, and the 2nd Annual 4th of July Wingding at the Sunshine House; neighboring Majawood's music fest; and each of us making more music and roadtrips and outdoor adventures -- Meltdown, Country Faire, Burning Man. Oregon. Idaho. Montana.

Adieu, long bright days of summer.

Hello, darkness, our old friend.