So we have a full moon on the summer solstice. Apparently that hasn’t happened for 70 years and won’t happen again until 2062. Plus, it’s the strawberry moon, the rose moon, or the honey moon, depending on which cultural/tribal naming you follow. All of those sound lovely to me.
And very apropos. The strawberries and the rest of the berries are ripe, roses all over the neighborhood are sweet, and we are awash in happy bees. A hive of honeybees set up shop in some nearby towering pines and I know they can see every blooming thing in our garden. Come ‘n’ get it, little bees! We have enough to share.
Pictured: strawberries in bowl; blueberries still ripening down my arm!; marionberries from flowering to mouth-puckering unripe to ripe; greens growing in a repurposed fire pan; bees in poppy; flowering pineapple guava
ETA: a not-very-good picture of the rising moon, looking more werewolf than strawberry, rose, or honey 🙂