Midsummer, or the summer solstice, is a good time to honour; the long days, when energy of all life seems to be at its peak. Celebrated for centuries, this is a festival of significance for many but has become less observed by the majority of us in more recent times. I decided this year to observe the occasion doing something I haven’t done before: sleeping in a covered hammock in the ponies’ field. I did this for three consecutive nights, and it would have been more had it not been for a poorly child needing me indoors. I am not entirely sure why I felt compelled to do this, although the intense heat in the daytime may have had something to do with it, but I decided to give it a go.

The first night was pretty restless and uncomfortable. I felt drawn to the noises which felt loud and sometimes unfamiliar. The planes were annoyingly loud through the evening and early morning so I tried instead to focus on the bird song, of mostly song thrushes, blackbirds, goldfinches and swallows which lifted my spirits and reduced my irritation a little. However I was also aware of the brightness of the stars, particularly the ‘saucepan’ or ‘plough’ which I now know is an asterism and part of the Ursa Major constellation. An asterism is a well known star pattern but is not an official constellation (thank you to the internet for filling out the details here). Staring up at its brightness filled me with awe at just how small and insignificant I felt compared to this star pattern and gave me a shift in my perspective of time; how transient and unimportant everything seems to be when this constellation has been observed forever, as far as we know. The moon too was stunning although it was behind me and twisting myself backwards to look at it in a wobbly hammock was sufficiently uncomfortable that I only tried it once!

The ponies were great company although they were spooked at first by this lump that hung in the air and moved at unexpected times. Any sudden movement by me resulted in loud snorting as they shot off in alarm to the other side of the field. I had arrived at dusk while neither pony was really paying much attention to me but when they did notice me, they wondered who or what had turned up in their field by their water trough, and came over, cautiously, to investigate. The larger, younger pony, who tends to be most in charge, was particularly concerned and I watched, amused, as he stood behind the smaller pony nudging him forwards as if to say ‘you go and check if we need to be worried about this while I stay back a keep a safe distance’. So the little one tentatively approached and was relieved to hear my voice from within the cocoon, and then see my face through the mosquito mesh. He sniffed and rubbed his face on the hammock which consequently swung wildly making him jump with surprise and trot away to join his friend a few steps behind. This was repeated a couple of times and I loved being amongst their interaction and observing their playful behaviour.

Despite not seeming to get much deep sleep that first night, what sleep I did get must have been better quality because I wasn’t tired the following day. I never sleep well somewhere new the first night so I was keen to repeat the experience so that I got more used to it. Night two was completely different, helped by the fact that by the evening I was tired so despite it being still very light, I went to the hammock around 9.15pm and think I was probably asleep before 9.30. There seemed to be no planes and I tuned into the birdsong and was quickly lulled into a deep sleep. I was comfortable all night and didn’t stir once until I awoke at 5.20 and most gorgeously, as I looked to my side, the smaller pony was lying right next to me and the other one was asleep standing up next to him. That warmed my heart more than I can say. I grappled around the hammock as quietly as I could to find my phone so I could take a photo as I wanted to remember this feeling for a long time: I felt accepted, trusted and welcomed into their small herd. I lay there for almost an hour enjoying how that felt and listening to the chatter of the swallows darting around the field catching breakfast.

The third night was equally restful but less remarkable and I hope to repeat this experience again this summer. Perhaps I will try a different area. The cattle or pigs perhaps would be interesting to join for a few nights, but it is just the being outside that seemed to be the best. It felt like a great way to honour the year’s longest day too.