We are all lit by the same sun

Today is Summer Solstice

Each year around Father’s Day, we plan a camping trip. It always aligns with the start of my daughter’s summer break and my husband’s birthday. The days are long, the heat hasn’t fully settled in, and it feels like the official start of summer. This year, I found a charming old ‘70s RV for rent on Airbnb. It sat on a quiet property bordering a creek, with goats, chickens, and trees heavy with cherry plums.

I’ve come to realize - it’s not always the big trips that leave an imprint. Sometimes, it’s the little getaways that feel the most magical.

When I think back to summer as a kid, I think of the camping trips my dad planned. I grew up mostly in Nebraska and the Colorado mountains, and we’d load up our van with gear and drive out to whatever spot had the best fishing. My Collie was always with us - my shadow and companion. I remember fashioning a fishing pole from a found stick, and unwrapping slices of American cheese for burgers sizzling on the campfire.

Today is the Summer Solstice. As a child, I didn’t even know it existed. But as an adult, I started noticing midsummer festivals - people wearing flower crowns, dancing around bonfires as the sun lingered in the sky. I was curious. What is the solstice, really?

Technically, it’s the longest day of light all year. Across centuries and cultures, it’s always been a celebration of abundance - of sun and growth and life. Some traditions believed fire gave strength back to the sun, helping ripen the harvest. It all makes me think: how far we’ve come from living by the rhythms of the earth.

These days, we can buy anything we need at the store. But have you ever grown your own food? Or coaxed a flower from a tiny seed? If not, you must try. There’s something profound in watching something thrive simply because you tended to it.

That little RV trip stirred something in me. The animals, the vegetables for sale by the roadside, the creek winding through the trees - it reminded me of a dream my husband and I share. One day, we hope to have land of our own. To care for animals. To look up at a sky filled with stars. To fall asleep to the croak of frogs and the hum of crickets.

For now, we live in Los Angeles, where the yard is small but the light is good. A few years ago, I could barely keep a succulent alive. Today, I have over 50 houseplants - some grown from seeds or clippings I’ve rooted myself. I’ve learned that a little attention goes a long way. I research each plant, learn what it needs, and adjust as I go. I think for much of my adult life, I was moving too fast to notice these slow details. But now, it’s a daily delight.

Some of my plant babies ✨

No matter where you live, you can grow something. Even a single pot on a windowsill is enough. Watching things grow feels like magic. There’s wonder in creating something from almost nothing. The world may be messy, even broken, but every time we press a seed into soil, we make a quiet, hopeful wish for the future.

I will leave you with the magical sound of the frogs that visited us nightly as we closed our eyes.

Until Next Time✨,
Kim