Tonight I took the kids to the Solstice Party at the lighthouse. There were s'mores, cocoa, a bonfire on the lake rocks, and drumming. The lake was roaring and there were two ships in the docks. A woman wearing Carhartts bibs over her Norwegian sweater danced like a bear around the fire in her workboots. Another woman jumped through the blaze. It was wild and magic and corny in such an earnest Minnesota small-town way you feel like crying and laughing at the same time. We got there at about twenty after the hour, and the earth began to turn back toward the sun as we stood there on the shore and watched the fire and felt the drum. The kids fell under the spell of the cold and the wind and the flames.
Then I pinched Maia's neck trying to zip up her coat, and John decided the best way to spend his time would be to roll down the hill, for fun, and the spell was broken, and a new cycle began.