If you read our spring equinox rituals piece back in March, first of all, thank you. Second, if you wrote that letter to your summer self, this is your friendly reminder that it’s out there somewhere, tucked into a coat pocket or the back of a drawer, waiting for you. Go find it. I’ll wait.
The summer solstice lands this Sunday, June 21, at 4:24 a.m. EDT. It’s the longest day of the year, the peak of the light, the moment when the sun is as high and as strong as it’s going to get. And then, quietly, things start tilting back toward the dark. I know. I don’t love that part either and quite frankly want to throttle anyone who reminds us of that, but it’s my duty to be honest here. That said, there’s something powerful in knowing this is the fullest, brightest day. Like it has to have some magic infused in it, right?
I’ve been celebrating the solstice in various ways for years now, mostly because I live in Vermont and this is what happens to you here. (Yes, Vermont is exactly what you think it is.) One year, a few friends and I attended a sound bath in a gorgeous historic coach barn, timed to finish right as the sun was setting. The confluence of crystal bowls, rain shakers, and a handful of instruments I still cannot identify felt like a massage for my brain and my body. I floated out of there. I also decided that if you are a person who snores or coughs loudly and incessantly in public, perhaps a group sound bath experience is not for you. Please and thank you.
Another year, we hiked our fam to the top of a hill on a local 1,400-acre farm, right beside a cow pasture, to watch the moon rise as the solstice sun set. We brought snacks and blankets and invited a whole crew. The clouds kept the moon from showing up. It didn’t matter. It still felt as magical as ever.
Explore all articles: Pregnancy and birth guide
I love these kinds of small, deliberate pauses. You don’t have to go full pagan to mark the longest day. (And please don’t let the movie Midsommar be your only reference point. I promise no one is going to put you in a bear suit.) You just have to want to be a little more present than usual.
Here are twelve summer solstice rituals to do just that
1. Stay up and outside for the whole thing
The most obvious solstice ritual is also the most elemental: use the light. All of it. The sun won’t set until around 8:30 or 9 p.m. depending on where you live, and in northern latitudes, the sky stays some shade of blue well past that. This is the one evening of the year where staying outside until it’s truly dark feels like an event instead of a mistake you’ll pay for tomorrow.
Have dinner outside. Keep the kids up late. Make a bonfire or light candles in the yard. In Scandinavian countries, the solstice (Midsommar) is one of the biggest holidays of the year, and the whole thing revolves around just being outside together for as long as humanly possible whether it’s eating, singing, dancing, or simply staying up in the endless almost-light. You don’t need a maypole. You just need a willingness to let the evening stretch.
2. Track the sun’s arc with your kids
Go outside three times: morning, midday, and evening. Each time, mark where shadows fall (a stick in the ground works, or chalk on the driveway). By the end of the day you’ve got a hands-on astronomy lesson about why this day is the longest, and little kids are genuinely amazed watching shadows move.
3. Make sun prints
If you want a summer crafty kid activity, cyanotype sun print paper is cheap and a fun art experiment of sorts. Lay flowers, leaves, or objects on the paper, leave it in the solstice sun, rinse with water, and you’ve got a botanical print. It’s art, it’s science, it’s fifteen minutes of peace.
4. Make sun tea or sun water
Leave a jar of water (with herbs, citrus, tea bags, whatever you want) in direct sunlight for the full day. Some traditions hold that water charged by solstice sun has special properties. Even if you don’t buy that, there’s something super cool and mystical about drinking something that literally soaked up the longest day. Kids love checking on it throughout the afternoon. It’s also just good iced tea.
5. Light a fire (any fire)
Solstice bonfires go back thousands of years across European, Celtic, Slavic, and Nordic traditions. The basic idea: on the night when the sun is at its most powerful, you light a fire to mirror it. In some traditions, people jumped over the flames for luck and protection. In others, burning wheels were rolled downhill to trace the sun’s arc across the sky. (The Austrians were really into this one.)
A backyard fire pit works. A few candles on the porch works. Even a single candle on the dinner table works. If your kids are old enough, let them be in charge of lighting it. Talk about what you’re carrying into the second half of the year. Or don’t talk at all. Just watch it burn.
6. Burn a list
Grab a scrap of paper and write down what you’re done carrying into the second half of the year. The grudge, the guilt, the skinny jeans that might come back but god-willing will not, the committee you should have quit in March. Don’t overthink it. Then feed it to the aforementioned fire. Bonfire, fire pit, candle flame, whatever you’ve got. Burning lists on the solstice is an old tradition across a bunch of European bonfire cultures, and it works because it’s so literal. You wrote it down, you watched it disappear.
Watching the paper curl and go black makes your brain believe you actually let it go. If your kids want in, let them. Honestly, it’s a fascinating (and generally hilarious) window into their psyche as well.
7. Make flower crowns
This one is pure Midsommar (the holiday, not the movie, I cannot stress this enough). In Sweden, making and wearing flower crowns is central to the celebration. There’s actually an old folk tradition that says if you pick seven different wildflowers on Midsummer’s Eve and put them under your pillow, you’ll dream of your future love. I haven’t tested this. But I have made a lot of flower crowns with my kids over the years and can confirm it’s one of those rare activities kids and adults of all ages instantly get into.
Grab whatever is blooming. Daisies, clover, dandelions, wildflowers from the yard or roadside. Weave them into crowns, tuck them behind ears, scatter them on the table. For littler solstice celebrators, you can stick double sided tape along a strip of paper. Let them press their finds into it then attach the ends when they’re done. The whole point of the solstice is celebrating abundance, and flowers in June are about as abundant as it gets.
8. Gather and dry herbs
This one has deep roots. Across European folk traditions, herbs picked on the solstice were believed to be at their most potent, which is why so many traditional “Midsummer bundles” are tied and hung to dry on this day. Practically speaking, June herbs actually are at peak flavor right now. Clip what’s in your garden or a neighbor’s, bundle them with twine, hang them in the kitchen. It’s a fun one for kids to help with, not to mention it’s useful and a little witchy.
9. Do a sun salutation (literally)
Sunrise on June 21 will be early. Really early. Around 5:15 a.m. in most of the eastern U.S. (Then again, if you have young kids this may just be your regular up and at ‘em time.) I am not going to pretend I’ve done this every year, but the years I have gotten up for the solstice sunrise, I’ve never regretted it. There’s a reason people have been gathering at Stonehenge at dawn on this day for 5,000 years.
If you’re a yoga person, doing actual sun salutations at sunrise on the solstice is so on-the-nose it circles back around to being great. If you’re not a yoga person, just step outside with your coffee. Face east. Stand there for a minute. Notice how warm it already is at 5 a.m. in June. That’s the whole practice.
10. Feast on what’s growing right now
The solstice is a harvest marker. In lots of traditions, this was the moment to gather herbs and plants that were believed to be at peak potency. (St. John’s Wort gets its name from the Feast of St. John, which falls right around the solstice, because that’s when it blooms. Not exactly sure about the wort part.) The common thread across cultures is eating and cooking with whatever the earth is giving you right now.
In June, that means strawberries, cherries, fresh herbs, salads that are mostly green things and flowers, grilled anything. Make it simple. Make it outside if you can. If you want a project, bake something with honey, which has been a solstice symbol for centuries. Or just go to the farmers’ market on Saturday, buy what looks good, and cook it for Sunday dinner with some intention behind it.
11. Do a midyear check-in
The solstice sits almost exactly at the midpoint of the year, which makes it a natural time to take stock. Not in a corporate-retreat, KPIs-and-deliverables kind of way. More like a quiet inventory. What’s blooming in your life right now? What needs more water? What quietly died back in April and you haven’t dealt with yet?
If you wrote intentions at the equinox or on New Year’s, pull them out. See what landed and what didn’t. If you didn’t write anything down, that’s fine too. Just sit with where you are for a minute. The solstice is peak light, peak energy, peak growth. It’s a good time to ask yourself if the things getting your energy are the things that deserve it.
12. Stay up for the stars
After all that light, let the dark have its turn. Once the sun finally sets on the longest day, stay outside a little longer. Wait for the stars. It takes a while on the solstice because twilight lingers, but when they finally show up, they feel earned.
Bring the kids outside in pajamas. Lay on a blanket. Try to find one constellation (the Big Dipper is a freebie in June). Or just lie there and be still. After the longest, brightest, most full day of the year, quiet is its own kind of ritual.
The summer solstice has been celebrated by human beings for as long as there have been human beings paying attention to the sky. The specifics vary wildly (bonfires in Scandinavia, all-night drumming in parts of West Africa, sunrise ceremonies among Indigenous communities across North America, the ancient gathering at Stonehenge) but the impulse is always the same. The sun is here. We are here. Let’s not miss it.
Happy solstice, friends.
