A-swoon with the June moon

A dark pool of water in a forest stream swirls at my feet. I peer purposefully into its depths, unable to discern the bottom while attempting to discover a fish therein. So focused is my intention that I almost fail to feel the equally dark eyes upon me.

Something indefinable raises my gaze to the opposite bank. At first, I notice nothing, because I am not expecting anything to be there. Ever so slightly, my perception shifts, and suddenly, I see a dappled fawn lying in the leaf litter. Head and legs tucked neatly into its perfectly still body, ears erect, eyes attentive to my hapless presence, this forest infant innocently advances my seasonal affliction: I am swept away with a raging case of June swoon.

I’m not alone in this magnificent malady. A meter reader confessed his secret plight the other day while prowling around cabins and homes to find fawns, bear cubs and goslings—the babes of June. “I carry a camera constantly,” he confided.

A call from my parents confirmed their membership in the club. “A fawn followed her mother across the road, only moments after we slowed the car. Remind your readers—if they see a doe, a fawn is likely to be close by!”

And while talking with my neighbor about her husband’s discovery of a fawn still glistening from its birth, yet another fawn stepped from the brush near us. We marveled together.

To swoon is to feel strong rapturous emotion. To swoon in June is to let your heart leap at the lush rush of this month’s fertile burst. Hummingbirds have returned just as the heuchera rings its dainty bells open. Honeysuckle, wild geranium and starflower beckon from the edges of woodland trails. Ribbons of scent from Russian olive blossoms almost overwhelm the olfactory nerve. Maple seedlings twirl from treetops. Chives send their purple pompons toward the sun. Rhubarb plies us with the possibility of pie. And June’s Strawberry Moon rises into the sky.

Named for the conical berries that ripen at this time, June’s full moon rises over the strawberry patch on Saturday, June 14. If you missed May’s full Flower Moon, missed drinking May wine steeped with sweet woodruff (for a blithe and happy spirit), plan to celebrate the timely ripening of June’s seed-studded fruit and its companion moon.

Nestle in the leafy patch with strawberries and cream. Under the glow of the moon, close your eyes and dream. Summer solstice checks in on June 21, igniting a slow burn that will simmer into hot and humid days and ways. For now, keep watch for the forest’s freshest fledglings, breathe in the new blooms and swoon with the moon at the succulence of June.