June 20, 2024 at 1:50 pm PDT / 20:50 UT
The Sun reaches 0° Cancer
Solstice Sunrise, Mendocino County, California
"When you die, only three things will remain of you, since you will abandon all material things on the threshold of the Otherworld: what you have taught others, what you have created with your hands, and how much love you have spread. So learn more and more in order to teach wise, long-lasting values. Work more and more to leave to the world things of great beauty. And Love, love, love people around you for the light of Love heals everything."
— François Bourillon
We are fast approaching summer solstice, for those of us who live topside Mother Earth. Marked by the Sun's entry into the cardinal, water sign of Cancer, this is the culmination point of Sol's yearly journey north. At noon on solstice the Sun is directly overhead the Tropic of Cancer, which is 23.5 degrees north of the equator. At this Northern Hemisphere peak of life-giving solar power, the masculine Sun glides into the arms of the feminine Moon, entering Cancer, the sign she rules — a blending of our male-female luminaries, adding to the potent love magic at this almost too heady time of year. And this year, love is an especially strong theme with Venus, already in Cancer, is still very close to the Sun, as is Mercury, agent of connection and communication, a special solstice trio; and all three in a dynamic square to transcendental Neptune currently occupying the final degree of Pisces, which is also the very last degree of the zodiac wheel itself. Not to mention, a beautiful Moon will grace the solstice night sky, almost full and falling in Jupiter's soaring sign of Sagittarius. This is a special solstice in many ways.
For our ancestors, summer solstice did not mark the first day of summer, but Midsummer, the heart of the season, which stretched from early May through early August, from Beltane (May Day) to Lammas, the beginning of the harvest season. The word solstice is derived from the Latin sol (Sun) and sistere (to stand still), and explains quite clearly what a solstice is: the Sun appears to come to a halt and for three days rises in the same spot on the eastern horizon. There are two solstices each year and they mark the two "Sun extremes" — the Sun has reached its furthest point north at the Cancer or June solstice, and furthest south at the Capricorn or December solstice.
The Veil Thins
Magic crowns this time of year for Midsummer Eve is long been considered a night when the veil between the worlds is thin, when the green spirits of the dark hollows and lonely woods venture out. The fairy host will once again roam Middle Earth to wreak havoc and remind all that the forces of nature are powerful, unpredictable, and not to be trifled with. Much of the associated Midsummer lore, because of this, has to do with protection. Yet of equal importance is love: for fiery passion and benevolent magic also abounds at this invigorating time of year. The Druids refer to the summer solstice as Alban Heruin, which translates, "The Light of the Shore" and also consider it one of the few times each year when the bond between Heaven and Earth is at its strongest.
In many parts of Europe, bonfires were lit for fertility and luck. Farmers drove their cattle through the flames, sprinted around animal pens and fields with smoking embers to ensure health and fertility. Lovers held hands and leaped the flames in tandem, while those without partners performed all sorts of love divination. Young women placed little bouquets under their pillows on Midsummer Eve for dreams of love, as it was thought certain flowers and herbs, like St. John's Wort and mugwort, would induce a special vision of one's future mate. Divining rods, healing herbs and flowers harvested on Midsummer Eve were said to be much more potent and powerful, and all dreams, whether about love or not, more likely to come true. Dew gathered on the Eve was supposed to restore sight and perhaps one's lost youth as well.
In Eastern European lore, the woodland ferns were said to bloom for a very short time on midsummer eve, and would bring good fortune and the ability to understand animal speech to the lucky individual who could find them. While ferns are not true flowering plants, the "flowering fern" legend makes sense; for, prior to our modern taxonomic system, the grouping of plants was not so genetically precise and numerous flowering plants with fern-like foliage were considered true ferns. Moreover, some true ferns, like the very old and unique European native Osmunda regalis, or royal fern as it is commonly called, have sporangia — fertile fronds — tight, showy clusters that resemble flowers, as the photo here shows. Most ferns by contrast have small, flattened spores hidden on the undersides of their fronds. The genus Osmunda is derived from the Anglo Saxon god of thunder Osmunder, and the species name regalis means something magnificent, king-like, regal.
The place where the Sun rises at summer solstice, and other critical stages in the solar year, have been marked since neolithic times. From openings in earth mounds that receive that first ray of solstice sunrise, to massive stone monuments, like Stonehenge, they exist the world over. Years ago when we moved to our current home, we discovered we had our own "Stonehenge" via a gap in the woods that surround our house. A view to the northeast, it precisely frames the point where the Sun rises each year around Midsummer.
At solstice we celebrate the light of the Sun and its glorious effects: the ripening and greening of Mother Earth. The return of light is bittersweet, however, tempered as it is with the knowledge of the perpetual turning of the wheel. For after summer solstice, little by little, the days become shorter until the dark of the year, the winter solstice, arrives.
* * *
— A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 2, Scene 1
RISE BEFORE DAWN one morning this week and see if you can glimpse the sunrise from some spot in your neck of the woods, 
and take note of what's growing and blooming where you live. These are your Midsummer flowers. Roses bloom in many places this time of year — a flower ruled by Venus. Wild, species roses, like the one pictured here, sport five petals, a Venus number, reflected in the pentacle, age old symbol of feminine wisdom and power, and which Venus inscribes in the sky in her orbital patterns through the zodiac wheel. If you harvest rose petals from bushes that have not been sprayed, you can add them to tea, jellies, honey and sugar, scenting each and also adding a little love magic. You can scatter them in your bath water or dry them to use in love charms. You can drop rose petals to steep slowly in culinary oil to increase the love you deliver with each meal. You can also make your own rose water, which you can add to your bath or use in cooking. I've included a recipe at the end of this article. This year I'm going to make flower crowns with jasmine, honeysuckle vines, dandelions, and other flowers that are blooming in the garden right now. Here is a helpful guide for making them yourself.
The Herb of Midsummer: Hypericum or St. John's Wort
With a name that connects it to both Christianity and its shadow, witchcraft, for centuries it was thought that burning St. John's Wort, named after John the Baptist, would provide protection from evil spirits. Its genus name Hypericum is from the Greek meaning "above an ikon," a symbolic reference to the transcendant realm, beyond all form and matter, and a mundane reference to the literal practice of placing sprigs above statues and religious icons to help drive off malevolent spirits. In Wales, the plant was used as a kind of herbal divination for one's health. Sprigs were cut for each family member and hung from a rafter overnight on Midsummer Eve or St. John's Feast Day, June 24th. The less shriveled your sprig in the morning, the better your health over the coming year.
St. John's Wort oil is an herbal preparation used to treat burns, including sunburn, rashes, dry itchy skin, muscle and joint aches and pains. In tincture form, it is used to treat anxiety and depression. To make the oil, collect the flowers just as they are opening. It is ideal to dry the flowers for a few hours in a shaded spot with good air circulation. Excess moisture will evaporate and strengthen the finished oil solution. Using a wide-mouth mason jar (you'll also need a lid), place the flowers in the jar and pour organic olive oil until the level is around three inches above the flowers. Cover the jar tightly and place in a warm sunny spot indoors for about six weeks. If you see condensation forming, open the lid and wipe with a clean cloth. After the flower/oil solution has steeped, strain it through a fine meshed strainer and bottle your herb-infused oil.
Lavender
Where I live lavender blooms on or just before summer solstice and one of the ways I celebrate midsummer is to harvest this aromatic flower on the day of solstice, when the Sun is waxing towards its zenith in late morning. I save the longest, most perfect stems to make a few lavender wands, and dry the rest in bundles, hanging them in the shade under the eaves of the house where they cast their fragrant spell as they dry. I use the dried flowers later in the kitchen (for flavoring homemade ice cream and custards), and for sachets, dream pillows and scented oils. I save enough dried flowers for winter solstice dream pillows, which make great holiday gifts. Dried lavender flowers are also a main ingredient in our "happy hen" nestbox herbal blend: a soothing, stress-reducing, and bug-repelling mixture of dried lavender, catnip, chamomile, eucalyptus and rosemary to mix with the nest box wood shavings.
Lavender wands are pretty easy to make, if you are NOT a perfectionist: as you can see here, my imperfect wand in the making last year. The most difficult part is the start, the first couple of weaving rows because the stems are still loose and slipping around. Be patient and know the hardest part passes by the quickest and after a couple of rows are done the weaving is much easier. I like to use 26 stems (13 pairs), weaving a magic Venus and Blue Moon number into the wand. But any even number that divides into two, identical ODD numbers will work, such as 18 (9+9), 22 (11+11) and so forth. The larger the number the more weaving you'll have to do, so starting out you might want to begin with a smaller, 18-stem wand. You'll also need a roughly 3-foot long section of quarter-inch satin ribbon for each wand.
It is best to use one of the long-stemmed lavender varieties with stems not too thick and inflexible. Wands should be made soon after you harvest the lavender and before it starts drying. The best types to use in making wands are: the tall Provence variety (Lavandula intermedia var. 'Provence') with pale lavender-grey flowers; and Hidcote Lavender (L. angustifolia 'Hidcote'), a super fragrant variety with sturdy but flexible stems. The Provence lavender has longer, thicker stems that can break more easily than Hidcote but the larger flower clusters on longer stem makes larger, longer wands.
Even though the wands are a bit of work, when finished they will last for years and make special gifts from your garden. Here's a well done "how-to" with easy to follow steps for making your own, and another with directions for making a bit more advanced, single stem weave.
Homemade Rose Water
Making rose water is a beautiful way to preserve the potent love magic at this time of year. It's best to harvest the petals early in the day as soon as the dew has dried. Pinch off the white section at the base of each petal as it can be bitter. Then mix:
- 2 cups of fresh petals
- 1½ cups of distilled water
- ½ cup of vodka in a glass container
Cover and store in a sunny spot (such as on a window sill) so that the mixture can steep for several weeks. Strain and return the liquid to the jar, adding 2 more cups of fresh petals. Repeat the steeping process. After several weeks strain again and discard the petals and store the liquid in small tightly covered little bottles in a cool dark spot.
Rosewater makes a lovely fragrance, but you can also add a tablespoon to simple desserts like rice pudding, sugar cookies, or homemade vanilla ice cream for a unique and subtle flavor.
* * *
DRINK IN THE ABUNDANT BEAUTY of our little planet at this special time of year. If you light a bonfire, campfire, hearth fire, or even a simple candle, in honor of this turning of the wheel of the solar year, you are reviving a practice that stretches back through millennia. Observing and honoring these ancient, natural holy days helps heal a split that has gone on way too long between Mother Earth and her human children.
Blue Moon Astrology is free of ads and free to all. If you enjoy reading this blog, please donate if you can — always much appreciated! Thank you!
If you'd like notification when I post new articles: subscribe to my mailing list.
Book a Reading with Elaine!
Shojin Lake by Mount Fuji — Tsuchiya Koitsu
I currently offer two session options: 60-minute and 90-minute over the phone at US $175 and $225. For every reading, I draw up and analyze several charts: natal, natal aspects, transits, secondary progressions, solar arc directions, and the current solar return chart — the necessary foundation for a meaningful reading of the highest quality.
What Clients Have Said
"I just wanted to take a minute to tell you how often I go back to the reading you did for me. I listened to it twice, taking notes the second time, and now when I am feeling a little lost...or pissed off (:-) or just like I can't make sense of anything, I go back and re-read or listen to sections of it and it helps IMMENSELY! Thank you for all your talented and thoughtful work!" — T.F.
* * *
"Elaine, your reading has enabled me to see the big picture as I've never seen it before. I've been aware of much of what you've spoken, but not had the clarity to deal with it. I really have had such an awakening with your reading, for which I will be forever thankful." — M.O
Find out more
Notes
The information about Eastern European folk traditions regarding the flowering fern was gathered from a Wikipedia article.
The sunrise at Stonehenge photo is shown here courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
The photo of the sunrise I took on solstice in 2011, the sun tea and wild rose shots are also mine. The photo of St. John's Wort (Hypericum) was taken by my daughter.
Shakespeare's play, A Midsummer Night's Dream, can be read at MIT's online Shakespeare archives.
© Elaine Kalantarian, all rights reserved