Confession: In my memory, June is a chilly and outrageously drippy month in our part of the world. What has come over this one, full of radiant blue-eyed days?
Not that it doesn’t rain, at times. My kids and I sit on our porch roof one morning and watch this doozy of a storm sweep in from the west. When the drops begin to hit, we scramble back through the window, and come downstairs to find my firstborn has made us breakfast. And it is still hot.
We snuggle kittens, as always. These we try to sell, which is (of course) an epic fail. I’d heard of it being done and thought I’d try.
My baby* learns to ride her bike without training wheels, and my, is she proud. *(Don’t tell her I called her that. Technically I’m not allowed to anymore, except under special circumstances.)
We spend hours and hours in the green world. I’ve never known a June so lucid, so turquoise.
I am admitted to the hospital for a catheter ablation, to treat my heart arrythmia. Fascinating stuff, and I am happy to remain conscious and remembrandt for most of the procedure. I like watching the screen. Then they put me to sleep for real, and burn tiny sections of my heart where the bad rhythms are coming from… and we will see where that goes. So far, it’s transformative. No more nasty beating when I run or climb a hill.
Regan comes home to stay, and now the joy begins in earnest. We bike, we walk, we chat, we swim, we squabble, we eat dinner in a completed circle.
By the great goodness of Jesus, Tamarack Lake is refilled this summer, after several years of staying drained for dam repairs. We live within easy walking distance, and spend lots of time along its banks. My girls compare notes over sticks and bugs.
Kelly finishes a glorious art project for our living room wall. I help her color in with oil pastels, but she does the drawing. Each portrait represents one of us, or our extra children, family, and loved ones. I could look at it all day long.
We go for more walks, and taste the glory of sisterhood, foxgloves, wild white roses.
We hike trails in the forest and fields near Woodcock Dam. My boys don’t know I take sneaky photographs when they walk together.
My parents and siblings share our annual cabin weekend in Ohio. I get lots of baby nephew snuggles, good talks, fireside time.
We surprise my mom with seventy balloons, each stuffed with a dollar bill, in honor of her 70th birthday. She sits down on the floor and laughs like a girl, and I love this about her. The grandkids savor it all as much as she does, because – balloon popping.
And we pray for her. These five young men are my brothers, much loved. (My sister was taking care of her baby, and I was taking care of the picture, so we didn’t get an all-siblings shot. But one sister-in-law is there, and my parents – and daughters, if you look close.)
June is a glorious month.
My daughter and I take advantage of a laundromat trip to catch milkshakes together. Washing machine troubles have silver linings. But now I have a wonderful new washer and I am happy about that.
In the evening, take-out with friends at a park is sweet – topped off by Piper’s creation, fresh strawberry pie with layers of chocolate and cream.
My garden grows like crazy. We harvest new lettuce, and sugar snap peas. On a whim, we make a trip north to pick baskets of fresh strawberries.
So much is wrong and crazy in the world, and in our own lives. We cannot go into public without feeling it deeply. But in a green oasis, a holy place of calm, our family begins to experience restoration for years’ worth of fractures. Healing is sweet. So is summer: the earth made bounteous and right.
May He complete this work.
What do you love best about June?