Solstice
Midsummer (solstice, whatever you like to call it) doesn't mean a whole lot to me. I have nothing, except our own barbecue and the bonfires on the West Coast (for "Saint John". Uh-huh) to attach to it. Nevertheless, I woke up at a couple of minutes before five this morning, fully and certainly aware that today is it, or rather, that last night was the shortest night. And then I went back to sleep and dreamt something bizarre about it snowing at Midsummer - fine, powdery Finnish snow - and Lucius Malfoy interrupting my careful experiment to find out why. On the whole, considering that yesterday I dropped more implements of paganism on my right instep than it was happy with, I think something is trying to tell me something. You, dear reader, can choose "Drew's subconscious" or "the Gods", as you yourself are inclined; I know which one I'm going for.