June is sunrise before 6 a.m. and sunset after 8 p.m., the days stretching longer and longer to hold the fullest amount of light.
June is strawberries and asparagus, rhubarb and the first sweet corn. June is the long-anticipated return of tamales and salsa at the Harvard farmers’ market every Tuesday.
June is turning on the box and ceiling fans, tending a basil plant on the front porch, finally moving my geraniums outside.
June is weather whiplash: from 55 to 85 and back again in the space of a few days. “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes,” people say, in both my West Texas hometown and my adopted New England city.
June is peonies and honeysuckle, roses and clematis and the first day lilies. June is thickets of wildflowers along the river trail: purple clover and wild daisies, tiny birdsfoot trefoil and tall elderberry bushes in full flower.
June is transition: the shift from the frenetic pace of the school year to the slower-but-not-stopped rhythms of summer.
June, this year, is more change piled on the change that has characterized the past year: my beloved boss retiring, other colleagues moving on. June is wondering what’s next for me as I dive into the job hunt, again.
June is the start of summer reading: light fiction, lots of young adult lit and mysteries, the latest stack of review books.
June is veggie quesadillas and huevos cooked on the stovetop, fresh fruit whenever and however possible, lots of lemonade and ginger peach tea.
June is stepping into summer and wondering what it holds.
What does June look like where you are?
cakes, tea and dreams 
June has been, weirdly, drier than May. And hot, but it’s FL so that’s to be expected–not complaining, just grateful for central AC! It looks like the last few tomatoes straggling in from the garden before they succumb to the heat and the bugs; like the kids heading outside with me after dinner (yay for longer days!) to attack the newly lush weeds before showers and bedtime; like my little old man cat and my “solar-powered” dog reveling in the sunbeams they follow around the house; like fruit salads and lighter meals and trying to break out of a food rut to enjoy beautiful summer produce; like watermelon every day while it lasts; and like slowing down and trying to enjoy summer (usually I wish my way into fall and cooler weather, but I’m really trying to savor summer more this year).
I love this, Helena! Such great images.
Your June sounds so lovely – very different from mine! June for me is weak sunlight and howling southerly storms; mulled wine and hot soup; reading by the fire; wanting to stay home and hibernate; warm boots and woollen coats.
Ah, yes. Sounds like my January!
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