This week, the sky hands us something sweet.
On the night of June 29th, June's full moon rises — the one the old almanacs call the Strawberry Moon. And here's the secret most people miss: it was never named for its color. (It doesn't actually turn pink, no matter what the internet promises you.)
It's named for the strawberries. For that short, generous window when wild berries finally ripen — small, easy to overlook, gone almost as quickly as they arrive. Long before printed calendars, people watched the sky to know when to gather, when to plant, when something precious had quietly come into season. The moon wasn't decoration. It was the calendar. The compass. The storybook.
I love that, especially right now. Because the Strawberry Moon isn't really about strawberries at all. It's about patience. About noticing small abundance before you go chasing the bigger harvest. About trusting that sweetness comes — usually after a long season of waiting.
So this week, here's your gentle assignment: find one small, sweet thing. A ripe berry. A warm mug. A quiet evening with no one needing anything from you. Let it be enough.
🌙 Want the whole story — the folklore, the honey moons and mead moons, the meaning behind the name? I wrote the full lore over at Grey Street Press: Why Is It Called the Strawberry Moon?
https://greystreetpress.com/blog/strawberry-moon-folklore
🍓 — Seraphina