Earlier in the day her plans had seemed a bad idea.

The day had been hot. If not insanely, it had still hit the low 80's.

And cleaning up her yard and prepping for the evening's activities had not been cooling. Thankfully the sun tea was.

But the sun had eventually begun to lower and with its passing the temperature had dropped. If not by a huge amount, it was enough. Enough that even if the heat of the small fire she had started was still a bit warm, it wouldn't be that way for long.

And so, she found herself freshly showered (seriously - yardwork in June was sweaty work!) and settling in to enjoy her clean yard and the mesmerizing dance of flames. At her elbow a small table loaded with snacks and drinks. Well. Loaded when only one person was partaking.

A bottle of mead, a bowl of fresh seasonal fruit, slices of watermelon already skewered for roasting, and a small tray of bread drizzled with honey.

Maybe next year there would be people to celebrate with. Well. Truth be told, there probably were some she could have reached out to this year. She had considered it but, in the end, decided against it.

For some reason she wanted to celebrate tonight alone. To dance through the flames of the fire naked without risk of pushing away tenuous and new friendships. To celebrate the late sinking of the sun behind the horizon and know that its return would be swift in the morning.

Reaching over she opened the bottle of mead and poured a generous measure into her glass. Smelling, tasting, enjoying.

Oh yes. Tonight, was going to be a good night.

Maybe for the winter solstice she would see if anyone wanted to celebrate with her.