This isn't the first time I have written about the Summer Solstice Parade in Santa Barbara, and it certainly won't be the last. It is a sunshine-soaked Santa Barbara tradition that is absolutely the most unique exper
ience that anyone can attend. In Celtic mythology, summer solstice is a day to make wishes and then let go. The parade is just that: a wish made on a summer day, visualized in may colors and dimensions, arising from the heart and soul.
The heart of downtown Santa Barbara is transformed from the Spanish-style business district into an explosion of color and music filled with illusions and imagery, creativity on steroids, beating back the "June Gloom" that can envelope the area.
This year, look for the car from Gilligan's Island. If you have an extra bottle of water, find the small slit in the side about eye level and press the bottle through (they'll thank you for it, trust me). Clap when they go by and tell them I love each and every one of them.
Summer Solstice is a celebration to manifest your wildest dreams. Today, as it is with many days, I dream of Santa Barbara, my family and friends who are there, the times of my life spent there and the times yet to be.
What is it about music that stirs my soul? Certain songs set me to move, to tap my feet, to dance to the music, to feel it with my very being, with my heart, my brain and my soul. It doesn't matter where I may be: sitting here at the computer, writing a business e-mail, at a restaurant. When the urge to move, even just mentally, occurs, it happens.
Scientific studies have shown music can equalize our brainwaves, affect blood pressure, heartbeat, respiration, pulse rate, body temperature, strengthening memory and generating a sense of well-being. The dentist plays music for a reason, as it helps disguise or balance out the sounds of equipment you'd rather not think about.
Music changes my perception of time and space. Listening to certain songs take me to specific moments and places in my life. Many of my memories are fixed to songs, processed in the right hemisphere of my brain, the different neurons responding based on what kind of music is playing. I go to that far away place within the caverns of my memories when reaching for my favorite music would cause the world to drift away.
Pieces of familiar music serve as a soundtrack for the movie that plays in my head, calling back memories of a person or place that is disappearing into the fog of time, snapping them back into the foreground of my mind, putting the past front and center in the present.
The Winter that seemed to last forever and the Spring that never really was have passed. Given the extended period of cold and wet, it's not much of a surprise that our roses had held off making an appearance. As the week wore on, they started to show themselves, just a little at a time. I first noticed some white peeking through, then some pink. And as always, I breathed a sigh of relief that the pruning I had done months earlier didn't frighten the plants into never growing again.
I am a hesitant pruner
. I never liked to trim the trees that were in the way of the walk; they went to a lot of trouble to grow and who was I to cut off a branch here or there? It took years for me to understand why it is needed (control shape, encourage more growth, improve health), and that it can be good for your plants, shrubs and trees.
Not all my pruning opportunities were successes. I still remember the Philadelphus virginalis (better known as Minnesota Snowflake Mock Orange) that I, well, pruned is too kind of a word to use. Butchered may be a bit strong, but you get the general idea. I am still haunted by the memory of its malformed shape, looking more like a gangly creature than a shrub. I was lucky it was at the rear of the house so none of the neighbors could really see it.
Fortunately roses are very forgiving and they are no worse for my pruning. Soon we will be enveloped in their intoxicating aromas, a myriad of colors and exquisite forms. It is no wonder that many consider roses to be the quintessential flower, as once they start there is generally no stopping them, producing a parade of nonstop color.
"I am glad that in the springtime of life there were those who planted flowers of love in my heart." - Robert Louis Stevenson
It is finally summer here in the northwest. It was a magical transition, from cold and damp to warm and sun. The overcast skies and rain that have persisted long after they should have given way to a bright, blue sky with the occasional puffy white cloud.
The temperature is expected to reach 70°F today. Bellingham has gone 249 consecutive days without reaching 70°F. We are not going to break the record of 254 days set in 1955, according to the National Weather Service, which keeps records for this area as far back as 1949. That is a record I am sure all Bellinghamsters will be happy not to leave to history.
For now, the sun is out, flowers are blooming, the vegetable garden is finally flourishing. The Winter that seemed to last forever and the Spring that never really was have passed.
And while summer solstice is over two weeks away, I will revel in the pastel colors of the dawn and dusk, and the azure sky in-between. This is the sort of day we can live with, soaking in all the rays the sun can provide. It will seem perfect. It will be perfect.
ience that anyone can attend. In Celtic mythology, summer solstice is a day to make wishes and then let go. The parade is just that: a wish made on a summer day, visualized in may colors and dimensions, arising from the heart and soul.
