I've always loved strawberries.
When I was little, they didn't love me back.
Every time I ate them, I'd break out in hives.
My skin would itch.
I would cry.
Then the day would carry on.
Most people probably would have stopped eating them.
I never did.
I loved them too much.
Somewhere along the way…
my body stopped reacting.
No big moment.
Just the realization that what had once affected me…
no longer did.
Thinking about that this week felt fitting— beneath the Strawberry Moon.
The Strawberry Moon isn't named for what's happening in the sky…
but for what was ripening on the earth.
For Algonquin peoples, June marked the season when wild strawberries were ready to gather.
The moon became a marker of what the earth was offering.
Somewhere along the way, we've become so fascinated with looking up…
that I wonder if we've forgotten to notice what's growing beneath our feet.
The moon was never separate from the earth.
It was part of the conversation.
The tides.
The seasons.
The harvest.
The migrations.
The rhythms of life itself.
Nature speaks.
Our ancestors knew how to listen.
How much wisdom have we mistaken for superstition…
forgetting the relationship?
Remembering isn't about returning to the past.
It's about returning to relationship.
Relationship with the earth.
With our bodies.
With the seasons.
With the foods that nourish us.
With the rhythms we've been moving too fast to notice.
I've spent much of my life looking for answers—
in books,
through teachers,
through years of study.
And while each has given me something beautiful…
my most memorable lessons have come from slowing down.
Stopping to look.
Really look.
My garden.
A cicada.
The trail.
The moon.
A strawberry.
The more I pay attention, the more I notice.
Nature has been offering quiet invitations all along.
Not asking us to believe. Inviting us to notice.
I love the moon.
Not solely because her beauty mesmerizes me…
but because looking up reminds me to pay attention to everything else.
Maybe the Strawberry Moon is an invitation—
to look up.
Then down.
To notice what is ripening right beneath our feet.
