June

To me June is a palate cleanser, a month to catch my breath between spring splendor and firework that is American July. By mid June the nights are warm and humid, scented of linden trees and white petunias I plant in ancient concrete urns around the house. Oldest photos of the house had white petunias and red geraniums planted in the same urns I use now. I'm thinking about people who lived here long before I was born and that I have no luck with geraniums.

June is also a month of hydrangeas. They're at their brightest whitest before they start maturing in mid-July turning shades of apple green, peach, and pink. With hydrangeas this process called “antiquing’’ and I hope I will antique half as pretty. But right now flowers are young, heads still heavy with moisture, slightest rain makes them nod to the ground.

Firefly nights are here with all their childhood magic and nostalgia. Sitting on the wisteria wrapped porch watching darkening of the sky is one of summer's greatest joys. Hummingbirds keep fighting over feeders in faint twilight finally dissolving into inky darkness, setting the stage for nightly performance of fireflies. I procrastinate going inside.

“You know what the issue is with this world? Everyone wants some magical solution to their problem and everyone refuses to believe in magic…”

The Mad Hatter, Alice in Wonderland