The big beautiful June poem
Strawberries, bonfires against summer stars, longed-for warmth...finally
It is the end of June, and so it is time for our big, beautiful June poem, written by you, compiled by me. Every week I ask the question ‘what has been particularly this week about this week? What has happened that could not have happened at any other moment in the year?’ And you answer. And then at the end of the month I pile them all up together - week by week - so that we can turn the month in our hands.
Get a cup of tea, take your time. It’s a big one, as ever.
Here we go.
Dragonflies skirting over the ponds
Peony Sarah Bernhardt unfurling from tight football buds to tiniest frill breaking the surface to the whole flower exploding in full ballerina-skirt beauty
Peering inside the foxgloves - dappled fairy beauties
Some sun. Appreciating the deep green canopy of tree shade in contrast
The heavenly scent of Philadelphus 'Belle Etoile'
One courgette plant going for it, while the others languish in indecision
Lime blossom scent and Euros preparations all over Berlin
Finally got the dahlias in
Freshly-cut rhubarb from my backyard, simmered with bright strawberries from the market and served over vanilla ice cream, evoking rich memories of other gardens, other Junes. My five-year-old grandson pronounced it good
Swimming twice a day while adjusting to the summer heat in the tropics. Lazing about poolside, amongst pines and palms, watching clouds glide by, billowing and swirling as they go
The roses are glorious this year despite intermittent sunshine, and now the ramblers take centre stage, scrambling and tumbling over shed, fence and into treetops
A cheap ticket for the National Theatre, on the way back soaking up the river view over Waterloo Bridge loving the mild weather and bright lights
The drone of a seaplane overhead, heading to a nearby island
New potatoes and asparagus for dinner
Exam week for the 17 year old: tension, arguing with her sister and exhaustion
Hay-fever taking its toll: I am puffy and snotty
A gift of a beautiful ceramic bowl full of deep red fresh cherries
Lots of sitting out in the back garden in the sun, dozing and reading
Kayaks in for the first paddle of the season
Avocets gracefully dancing with each other at RSPB Black Toft Sands, the largest tidal reed bed in England. Bitterns and Marsh Harriers having a battle over prey
An endless sea of buttercups dancing in the wind. Sunflowers growing taller by the hour
4.30 am sunrises filtering through the bedroom blinds and curtains, tricking me out of my slumber
More rain than usual making vegetation so lush
A ‘chime’ of baby wrens: pompoms with beaks
Walking barefoot across the cool, wet grass to deadhead the roses in my pjs
The surreal ‘simmerdim’ in Shetland - waking up to daylight and checking the time to see it's actually 3am
Watching herons feed their young, beaks like little pterodactyls
Coming home at 10pm after an evening with friends at a pub here in Newcastle and it's still not dark. So much light even if it's raining
The view through the rain-streaked window onto the garden reminds me of how the world used to look 10 days ago before my cataract surgery
Harvesting the first broad beans. Colanders full of knobbly green pods, torn open with a thumbnail to reveal the pale-green beans set jewel-like in creamy velvet
First batch of gazpacho of the summer
Mock orange time in the garden, three different kinds that open in succession
Wafts of honeysuckle remind me it’s June despite the cold weather
Regular bowlfuls of strawberries in the garden, breakfast getting eaten on the way back to the house. There have been enough for a jam making session, 6 pots of summer to sustain us through whatever the weather throws at us
Being surrounded by the amazing swooping swifts, so soothing and peaceful
The dreaded arrival of mosquitoes
Staying up late enough to watch twilight fade into darkness, watching the lightning bugs putting on a show
The oxeye daisies are blooming in the meadow and the yellow rattle is rattling, and the grasses have grown incredibly tall and lush in all this rain
Still raining, still windy. It's June FFS!!!!
The first stag beetle of the year, wandering along the path in search of a mate. Here's hoping she finds one
Dodging the showers to thin out the fruit on the apple tree, then clearing up under an umbrella
Longing to sit out into the late evening light but it is too cool
House martins soaring, dipping and circling in the big field where I walk
My elderflower and lemon balm soda experiment is ready to be drunk after a couple of weeks fizzing on the countertop
A few weeks ago, the blackberry brambles were covered with bees and pink blossoms. Now they're a sea of tiny fists of green fruit hinting at the dark lusciousness to come
The first maple creamee (soft-serve) from the people who grow and tap the trees
A family of lapwings, the young mostly hidden in a ploughed field, the parents patrolling from above
In Spain this week and heard squawking parakeets in the trees, smelled the heady scent of roses in full bloom in a rose garden, and watched all sizes of ants scurrying about their business
Cow parsley, Queen Anne’s lace and buttercups. The watercress in the River Lavant in full flower, and the willows in full green leaf, waving gently in the breeze
Ducks, swans and geese with their young soaking up the sun on the river banks and everyone out strolling
After what feels like weeks of rain and cold, I sat in the garden in the sunshine and watched the sunset on the solstice, lighting a candle and having a moment of just being
An almost full moon in a twilight sky streaked with sunset clouds, air full of the creamy smell of angelica, thinking that when I do this again next week it will already be that little bit darker
Cresting the summer solstice and coming down the other side always feels a monumental achievement to me. The wild abundance of roses in particular has been cheering me up
A red admiral butterfly in the garden
An impromptu solstice evening bbq, the first of the year, and then out late in the garden wrapped in blankets, watching the sky's changing hues
A French garden full of lavender, laurier roses, wild flowers, butterflies and bees. Coffee in the market square under dappled trees
Marking the solstice with a bit of writing and an evening walk to take full advantage of the late setting sun
Harvesting my first-ever, home-grown cucumber, a lovely variety called 'mini munch'. I am growing them in memory of a friend's mother - they were her signature crop
A clear night beneath a starry sky with fireflies flickering in the dense wall of brambles, bushes, and trees as though they were falling stars
A meadow brown butterfly sunning itself on some clover flowers
My love in the mist flowering all shades of beautiful blue with its fairy feathery foliage
My daughter home for the hols from Uni. A beer in the pub garden in the evening sunshine
Warm summer evenings and long twilights lead me down the path to the creek, and on Midsummer's Eve as the dusk deepened, I spotted a beaver swimming in the marsh, a solstice blessing
Watching the Strawberry moon rise over the Ruby mountains and my mom declaring she'd like a tree planted here in her memory. The arch of time moving through the seasons
Sitting at peace during the moment of solstice, the garden completely still, the scent of mock orange filling the air
The longed for warmth coaxing the first dragonfly from the pond; the relief accompanying the end of A levels
Spending solstice in a meadow lying among the clovers and buttercups, then making a flower crown and wearing it for the rest of the day
A low, lazy full moon juuuuuust barely getting up above the houses during the solstice period, because even the moon wants a summer holiday
Watching the moonrise in the middle of a field at 11:30pm with friends while celebrating the solstice with a huge bonfire
Still adjusting to the change in temperature and the sight of the sun and blue sky…
Walking through Kensington Gardens in the evening, the sun still hot and the grass high and meadowy. The scent of lime trees and great wafts of pollen
A huge solstice bonfire and communal admiration of the most gorgeous moonrise. People lined up their little camping stools to watch it, popcorn in hand, like they were in a cinema
A Matariki feast, marking the Maori New Year, and the winter solstice
Picking dozens of mangetout, fresh and bright green, then cooking them in Thai green curry for dinner
The feel and scent of line-dried sheets
Hoppings Week, when we traditionally expect exceptionally wet and windy weather because of a witch's curse on the annual Fair on the Town Moor, but we had sun!
Reports of bears in the neighborhood, need to take down the bird feeders for a while
Skunks are out - a nauseating wake-up call under our bedroom window
Walking the shore to experience the light of sea & sky where they meet at this special midsummer time
The cicadas have fired up. Their sound recalls long, boring summer days as a child and summer camp as a teen - the soundtrack to high summer
Clouds of giant green and black striped dragonflies, hovering and buzzing over the sea grapes and palmettos
Qi Gong on the beach in the Gower, Wales, breathing in and out with the rhythm of the waves
Eating dinner in the garden in t-shirt sleeves, beneath the acrobatic swifts filling the sky with their swooping and screaming
Wearing a swimming costume on Blackhall Rocks Beach instead of ten layers of thermals, and taking a dip in the freezing North Sea, my first this year
Sunshine, sunshine, sunshine finally! Our 'accidentally' untrimmed privet hedge is thick and bushy and covered with flowers, the scent fills the garden and it is busy with insects
Just compiling that I feel like I’ve gained a few more freckles, like my shoulders have dropped a little, and as if, maybe, I can hear the tinkling of a far-off ice cream van.
Glorious. I love the way you can really chart the change - who even remembers that it was wet and cold at the beginning of the month now? Not me…
Thanks to everyone for your wonderful contributions. Please do leave a comment just to let me know you liked it, and I look forward to doing it all again for July.
Ah reading this has brought a big smile to my entire being☀️. I love the way it travels to different parts of the world, and from summer to winter and back again. Delightful!
It really is a tapestry of the most exquisite, varied and unique moments sewn together to create such a joyful thing we can all share. Thank you everyone and thank you Lia!