Solstice triggers many little notions in me. None are too deep, so if you would not have your time wasted, you may wish to stop reading this one about….now.
The first word “solstice” invokes for me is Stonehenge. When I visited it years ago, you were allowed to walk up to the stark slabs and run you hands over them, quite unsupervised. In what turned out to be a high profile case last year in Utah, some hikers were charged…criminally…with toppling precariously balanced boulders that had stood cartoonlike for eons. I had mixed feelings about that case, as I do now for the “hands off” protection I understand is now in place at Stonehenge…
On the one hand, it is a shame when things are destroyed by a few dimwits in a moment of inspiration. On the other hand, perhaps we should not reorder the entire world to sanitize against isolated incidents, so that we can actually enjoy the world. I have stopped flying, because airports have gotten to be such a bureaucratic army physical. I would start flying again, if we collectively decided that, yes, we’ll be losing a few planes each year to terrorists, but choose not to stand in long security lines or have our travel shampoo confiscated. If they want to bring a plane down, they’ll bring a plane down. I mean, come on–they have SAM’s; the real terrorists don’t rely on box cutters!
So it is with Stonehenge. True, someone may insist on spray painting it. Should the possibility prevent the sensation of running your hand over those slabs, trying to imagine what the Druids may have had in mind? To really appreciate history, you must be allowed to play with it, not just read about it. Dress up and reenact a battle, if you are prepared to be surprised by the effort our predecessors endured. My daughters hoisted the yardarm aboard the USS Constellation in Baltimore Harbor, in what was the finest guided tour I can recall. Swing a blacksmith hammer, drink some mead, take a carriage ride. And yes, climb on those teetering rocks. The next earthquake may have sent the darn things to the desert floor anyway; we can let those remorseful hikers go free.
The second notion “solstice” fills me with is that it is the most luxurious of times. Everyone else in our house of five (this week…sometimes three, sometimes seven) is asleep…even the two purr/snoring kitties beside me. I awaken with the internal clock of a 58 year old now, and finally understand why. Weekend mornings are sacred. I have seven winters remaining (at work–not in life…that I know of!) until we can retire and move to the beach. I look forward to the spring like a Viking. The world is a less daunting threat of cold and ice…I am once again in charge. I can do great things.
Like assemble a new propane grill.
Because the solstice is a celebration that, once again, the world is also outside.
🙂 Another amazing post from you, my love! I look especially forward to the beach move, and maybe it will happen sooner!
That’s why we’re getting the most economical grill today!
I’m fine with that, sweetie! 🙂
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I like the first part of your post–conservationists of history don’t realize that these places are indeed “playgrounds” for historians and other curious people.
Thanks Noah, though I can also see their point…their concern that things will be irreparably altered or even destroyed. But what good is the unreachable?
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I support you 100% about airport security. I still have not forgiven Stansted International for confiscating my perfume set which I had bought for my mom. It was new, unopened, with tags and plastic wrappings all intact. And they had to make a show of dumping it in the bin despite my pleadings that it was to be a gift. Heartless! Like you said, if the terrorist want to bring a plane down, they’ll bring a plane down – perfume or no perfume!