A Deep River Year
June 11  2014

Thursday is June’s full moon—the Strawberry Moon.   The name comes from our Native Americans, who  knew that the season for gathering these sweet, red berries was a brief and wonderful time, and perhaps they celebrated by feasting under the month’s wondrous full moon.  Some of them called these fruits “heart-berries,” and it’s not difficult to figure out why if you hold one in your hand and look at it.   They cherished these little fruits as one of the earth's first and sweetest gifts.   Even modern scientists agree that strawberries are good for the heart, help reduce blood pressure, and may even have anti-aging properties.

Last Sunday afternoon our local historical society had its annual Strawberry Social in the carriage house across the street.   They served strawberry shortcake the correct way, with biscuits and not sponge cake, and it was topped with real cream whipped by the president of the society who has been the official whipper for many years.    For many years one of the old members actually grew the strawberries in the field back behind the old Stone House.   Everyone always hoped that the berries would ripen in time for the festival, and that the day for picking would be fair and gentle.  Now, I think, they get  the fruit from the local grocery store, and that is a little disappointing, even though I ate the whole shortcake and licked the plate.

These days you can get strawberries almost year-round, as you can peaches, asparagus, blueberries and tomatoes.   It is a luxury we take for granted, even though these gifts of earth don’t quite taste the same when they are shipped thousands of miles and are bred for travel-hardiness instead of flavor.  No winter strawberry tastes like ones you can pick yourself.   When my children were little, we would wait for some sunny June day and head off to the strawberry field to pick a box full.   Later those berries would become jams and pies and topping for shortcake; and some would be frozen for a cold, gray day when we needed a taste of summer.   But the best ones were those eaten right there in the field, warm, sweet--the ones which left a red ring around your mouth--the ones which made your heart glad to be alive.

Heart Berries

We weary of the bitterness,
the aching disappointment
when a hopeful day
turns tasteless on our lips.
Then some green morning
a red heart shows among the leaves,
warm as the sun.
And this glory that fills
our mouth,
is light itself,
and joy,
and June explodes
for one bright moment,
runs down our cheek,
drips on chin and fingers,
makes us red with desire.
Then  we are child,
the world ripe before us,
and, for a moment,
 we grow sweet
again.

--Timothy Haut, June 11,  2014