June 30, 2025

Good morning!

It’s Monday—and it’s June’s last day with us. She spent much of yesterday packing up her things. At midnight, she’ll board her celestial chariot and ride away.

I cut the last of the peonies and will present them to her on her way out. Considering all the beauty she brought us this month, it seems only fair.

Meanwhile, a host of new arrivals are lining up in the wings. Don’t tell June, but I think I smell honeysuckle?

“We have much to hope from the flowers.”

—Arthur Conan Doyle

Onwards,

Clara