June is over today. June is one of my favorite months. It’s mostly still spring the first part, and summer is still fresh and new and full of potential for the rest. Once July arrives, there are the celebrations of the 4th, there are things in the yard that are past blooming, it’s peak wildflower time in the mountains (and why haven’t we been up there more?!?), and suddenly it’s a downhill race to autumn.
Already I am feeling summer slip by!
I once heard a saying while living in Missouri that went something like ‘fresh as a June morning’, and that clicked for me.
We lived in a small-ish town in Central Missouri, and there was no farmer’s market as such. What we did have was a community of old order Mennonites that would sell produce at their farms. I remember Saturday mornings…in June...driving out to pick up fresh strawberries, tomatoes, and corn, among other things. Among every other thing. The things they grew…including kids. Those were not for sale, but they did help run the cash register, stock the bins, pick the berries, and whatever else was necessary.
The trek out to the particular farm we frequented was peaceful, on less-traveled dirt roads, with wild-flower filled ditches.
June mornings in Kentucky were damp with humidity, as I remember, with dew on spider webs in the field across the drive, and red-winged black birds defending their territories in the field across the road.
These June mornings I have been riding to work. With a jacket on. Probably I will shed that with the advent of July, but I have needed one up to now. I have seen deer, geese, ducks, and cormorants. Glorious mornings, meeting walkers, joggers, and other riders on the trail, and wondering what I could be doing if I wasn’t going to work.
Yeah. Whatever. That’s just June working it’s magic on me.