A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns

A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns, a photo by rachlyf on Flickr.

June. The supposed peak of Summer. The heat that flourishes carpets of grass beds and yields flushes of blossoms. The time people take off their jackets and engage in "summer-y" activities such as head off to the beach, embrace the sun, have loads of barbecues and have another ice-cream.

(At the moment, while we are able to do most of these "summer-y" events, it was still too chilly to go to the beach. The weather is being extremely temperamental.)

June. A good month where weddings are popular in honour of the Roman goddess of marriage, Juno. Or perhaps so that people had more choices of fashion rather than something just to keep warm.

June. The month many things come newly sprung, cradled by songs of Summer, seasoned and shaped by the warmth of it all.

As is yours truly.