A Solstice to be Remembered

We marked the solstice a week late this year, trusting that the Earth’s axis would not be offended. This was the third time that we celebrated this day of utmost light (or utmost dark if you are in the Southern Hemisphere) with a reading of Shakespeare’s comedy, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It is a tradition we intend to carry on, for the play never fails to delight, whether read by actors or exuberant appreciators of tricky fairies and love-maddened youth.

The forecast called for rain, and indeed, there were plenty of storms nearby, but the clouds above our little plot of land parted on the evening of our reading. Thank you, weather gods! I dearly wanted to stage it outside, as the old oak tree and the surrounding garden–designed to be both domesticated and wild–make a perfect setting for a story that involves the strictures of civilization (You will marry who I tell you or die!) and the wily ways of love and fertility.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a cocktail of bad behavior: parents act murderously, friends endanger friends, lovers betray lovers, fairies upend the climate with their marital spats, and poor Titania falls madly in love with an ass. By Act Five, however, all is well. An elixir of flowers prepared by the Fairy King transforms the woeful errors into dreams. Cruelty and humiliation–if not completely erased–are rendered forgivable. The lovers wake in a happier arrangement, the Fairy Queen reunites with her Oberon, and a life of concord and love well met becomes possible… for the moment.

And then there are the mechanicals! The bumbling weavers and carpenters, joiners and tinkers who meet in the dead of the night to rehearse their rendition of the tragedy of Pyramus and Thisbe. Their unschooled enthusiasm is an inspiration for our reading at Lonely Worm Farm. Our intention is not to produce a professional, theatrical performance, but to gather friends, cast seriousness to the wind, and plunge into the ever-renewing astonishment of Shakespeare’s language.

And that is exactly what happened. Friends and neighbors arrived, bearing fruit tarts and paella, helpful hands and inspired costumes. We wove flower wreaths, lit the tiki lamps, poured the wine and embarked on Act I. Alongside the human declaiming, Hermia’s little dog, Fawkes, punctuated the action with his perfectly timed barks, and a chorus of bullfrogs sounded from the wetlands, wooing each other as our lovers wooed. As darkness fell, the fireflies came out and the cast donned reading glasses. Next year we’ll start a wee bit earlier!

For now, I want to thank our marvelous cast—especially new friends Doug and Jon, who bravely joined up without knowing what they were getting into. It takes guts to emote, to experiment, to sing and dance and bare your playful soul in front of people who you’ve only met on a singular Zoom read through. Well done! And well done, audience! Your generosity and enthusiasm infused the night with gladness. For those who couldn’t come, I hope these pictures will give you a shot of joy. May the spirit of magic, warmth, love and forgiveness of mistakes fuel your summer….