Hello from not so sunny Port Aransas, Texas.
I’m writing to you from vacation. It is the night of the summer solstice, and I’m sitting on my hotel balcony listening to the ocean waves crash. The ocean is out there somewhere, but I cannot see it in the ink-black sky. The moon and stars are obscured by a thick cloud cover. Everything is dark and still, and my family is fast asleep.
I’m sitting here with a memento from a long-ago beach trip. It was to Gulf Shores aka “The Redneck Riviera,” where I stayed in a hotel in between two bars, the Pink Pony and the Flora-Bama. I was in college, but not on a crazy Spring Break trip. I was with 20+ rowdy Cajun female family members, and I stayed with the ones who were 60+. I was their mascot and their DD—a crone in training.
They called themselves the Zeaux Zeauxs—a play on the French word for bird (aka lady bits). Watching my 80+ year old Great Aunt dance in the sand during our talent show while I played When the Saints Go Marching In on my saxophone is now a core memory. Yes, the 20+ of us had a talent show in our hotel, on our patio facing the ocean, and the audience was a bunch of confused hotel patrons.
On our last trip, we all got candles of an older buxom bathing beauty. Mine survived through the years, and I brought her on my current beach trip to celebrate the solstice with me.
My solstice obsession goes back to a 3rd grade book report on Stonehenge. I was one of those kids who was obsessed with Stonehenge, wanted to believe the Loch Ness monster was real, and was sincerely worried about the Bermuda Triangle.
But seriously, how did the ancient people move those stones so far? And why did they build a giant circle that is perfectly aligned with the sun on both the summer and the winter solstice—on top of a burial ground? Curious 9-year-olds want to know. Maybe one day, I’ll join the thousands of revelers on the summer solstice who watch the sun rise over the “heel stone” and get some answers.
Being on the beach during solstice this year was a happy coincidence. It wasn’t until after the trip was booked that I realized we would be here on the longest day of the year. Cool! What a place to see the sun.
I thought watching the sunrise on the beach would be the perfect way to celebrate the solstice. I packed my Zeaux Zeaux candle and Tarot of the Tides deck—a very cute deck that tells the story of Bob, a rubber duckie lost at sea. If the real Zeaux Zeauxs knew I had those cards they would turn over in their graves.
The plan was to go to the beach, pull cards for myself and one for you, and maybe do a sun salutation while watching the sunrise.
The sun had other ideas.
I was stoked I didn’t sleep through my alarm. I walked out to the balcony to check the skies and my jaw dropped. The skies over the ocean were glowing purple and crackling with lightning.
The rain and lightning were miles away in the gulf. But I’d planned, I’d packed, and I’d miraculously woken up before sunrise. I was committed. So, I grabbed my phone and my tarot cards, stuck them in a Ziploc bag to keep them dry in case of rain, and headed out to the beach.
Maybe other people knew it was the solstice. Maybe not. Either way, I was alone on the beach with a storm on the horizon.
Well, not exactly. There was someone else out there celebrating the solstice. A coyote was playing in the surf about 100 yards from me, spinning and leaping in the waves. When it saw me, we shared a look, then it bolted for the sand dunes and I was alone again.
I scrapped my plans for tarot and a sun salutation. The wind was whipping my hair around so hard I could barely see. If I had pulled out the cards they would have been lost to the ocean, just like the hero of the deck, Bob the duck.
The lightning had slowed. It was so far away, I couldn’t even hear the thunder. The flashes of purple were now backlit by a beautiful pinkish red glow. Was that the sunrise?
The same clouds that refracted all the beautiful purple light in the storm had blocked out the sun. Only a diffuse glow was visible. I waited and hoped for the clouds to part, but eventually I gave up and went back to my room and back to sleep. Nobody even noticed I left.
When I woke up again, it was raining. The pool was closed for lightning. The clouds were thick and the sky was gray. The wind stayed strong. Eventually the rain and lightning dissipated. So we pretended the bad weather never happened and headed to the beach and the pool.
We didn’t stay on the beach long—the wind was kicking sand up into our faces. I actually got a chill getting out of the pool. In South Texas. On the summer solstice.
Guess what? I never saw the sun. Not once.
Then, around 8pm, I was floating in the pool, and I noticed a blue patch of sky. What did I see in that small opening? The moon.
Defeated, and at the last minute, I walked to the front of the hotel to see the western sky at sunset. Just another red glow obscured by clouds.
It reminds me of another disappointing solar event. We lived in the zone of totality for the last full solar eclipse. Everyone was pumped. We got our eclipse glasses and went into our backyard to watch and wait. We waited…and we waited…and the sun coquettishly hid behind the clouds that day too.
Even on two of his biggest days, the sun was like, nah. I’m not feeling it. I don’t need to perform for you. Instead, he brings an epic lightning storm and covers himself in clouds. Then he sends the moon as a stand-in for the few minutes the clouds part.
How badass is that.
Most people think of the sun as masculine and static. Today, he had pretty kick ass crone energy. Remember—cronehood isn’t about age or gender. It is a state of mind.
The solstice made me realize he isn’t static at all. He has cycles of growth and decline. Today was his peak, and tomorrow he begins his descent into the crone-half of the solar year.
But damn. I really wish he would have let me see him.
P.S. The weather didn’t let me see the sun today or let me draw you a tarot card on the beach. But my Zeaux Zeaux candle wanted to show you “The Sun” from my amazing rubber duckie deck. Do you see Bob in the very bottom left of the card? Enjoy and happy solstice!
The content on Crone Powers is for informational and entertainment purposes only. It does not constitute medical advice. I am a doctor, but I AM NOT YOUR DOCTOR. Always consult your medical and mental health professionals before ADDING—NEVER SUBSTITUTING—spiritual modalities to your care. Remember, woo only works when you do the work.
The views and opinions expressed here are my own and do not represent those of my employer or any institution with which I am affiliated.
From one crone to another, thank you for sharing your solstice adventure. Between the coyote and the lightning, you were gifted all manner of signs and symbols to carry into the celebration!