It's almost as if you can tell how subtle it comes into being. Everything seems to be a remnant from last month for the most part. There is one thing June brings in abundance though. Bugs. Lots of these things. The turn of the world seems new again. And you'll find there will be less rainfall. Give or take. Strange sunsets will strike you, and these will hang around a little longer.
But there's something that's a bit off. A little askew. It smiles awry. Its land aslant. An ocean tide engulfs some quiet alcove and then it seems washed away like the last age. Something rings from another century throughout this month, too. It's not eerie, but instead a fond memory of sunshine in the fields. Then you remember that you forgot. That's how June works.
The time is designed to be playful. You must find yourself in some watery environment to feel the world of June. You cannot access it through patios and sundecks. You can't see it with lanterns and telescopes. But it shows itself in weird things like a lost glass bottle that once held the scent of violets and straw. It will tease the humans, confront the birds, and make some obscure reference to being on a quest for the dew that was once shining off of the leaves, the grasses, and some windows.
An Observation by Iggy 2019
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