This is probably part of an ongoing meditation on story, myth, and land based spirituality, as it is something I’m really reflecting upon lately.

We are 5 days before the summer solstice and on the verge of a thunder storm as I write. My house is humid and grey as the clouds pass in front of the sun; light breaking in through the dense overcast sky as the winds push the shadows across the lush greenery outdoors. My house is well insulated, with no air conditioning, so the dampness creeps in, despite everything being closed, as I wait for the rains to arrive. My first year in this region, 22 years ago now, I was surprised by the humidity, the thunderstorms, and the ways the summer heat creeps in here. I had anticipated the cold, but not the heat. It took many years for my body to acclimatize to different weather patterns than those I had always known.

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