Monday 20 June 2016, Summer Solstice | Grandma tells me that out at a garden center of one of the area hardware stores, in front of a display of heavy duty insecticides that boast "kills over 500 species of bugs," she begins complaining, loudly, "What are the birds supposed to eat? What are the turtles supposed to eat?" Spent much of the solstice sitting in Grandma's back yard with Sierra and the kids while Grandma dug in her little garden. Sioux Bea, her leggy, tawny mutt, found a turtle under the fig tree and excitedly bounded up and down, barking, and nipping at its shell. It hid for as long as we watched it, until we weren't watching it anymore and then, undoubtedly, disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Stumbling upon turtles (and usually it is the dogs who do the stumbling--and barking, and nipping) is among my favorite mundane bits of summer magick.