A Travel Guide Through the Month of June and Midsummer

As a kind of viaticum,
On this first day of June, 2025, I felt like writing — early in the morning — about this month, its meaning from ancient times to today.

Wandering here and there, I gathered a thousand bits of information — things anyone can easily find. I’ve put together a brief synthesis, adding my own perspective, today’s mood and sense of poetry.

June, the sixth month in our calendar, takes its name from Lucius Junius Brutus, the first consul of Rome. But I much prefer the more whimsical etymology offered by the poet Ovid: that June is named in honor of Juno. This Roman goddess, queen of the gods and wife of Jupiter, is the protector of women and symbol of marriage and fertility. Surely more charming than the stern Brutus?

Still, Juno wasn’t known for her sweetness — she had a warrior’s temper.
Point for Ovid: even today, June is considered a favorable month for weddings.
So, June: Lucius Junius Brutus or Juno? Both origins exist, but we do know for certain that June 1st was once dedicated to Juno Moneta — so named as the goddess of money.

And today, quite fittingly, silver coins fell from the sky: light raindrops bouncing off the pond’s surface.
A sign of abundance? Or the “true riches” that the French writer Jean Giono wrote about? Maybe both. I won’t choose. Either way — it was beautiful.

Along the way, I learned that June 8th honors Mens, the goddess of intellect. Just one week to get ready! That’s a tight schedule for the narrow-minded…

In any case, let’s remember that this month is deeply tied to youth, freshness, adolescence.
Perhaps Rimbaud remembered that too, in his Cahiers de Douai (1870), especially in the poem “Roman,” with its famously tender first line:

On n’est pas sérieux, quand on a dix-sept ans.
— Un beau soir, foin des bocks et de la limonade,
Des cafés tapageurs aux lustres éclatants !
— On va sous les tilleuls verts de la promenade.
Les tilleuls sentent bon dans les bons soirs de juin !
L’air est parfois si doux, qu’on ferme la paupière ;
Le vent chargé de bruits, — la ville n’est pas loin, –
A des parfums de vigne et des parfums de bière…

Linden trees, springtime, June… that heady mix of budding youth and beer-fueled joy: Rimbaud gives us a piece that perfectly captures the spirit of June.
Reading it, we relive the season’s sensations — the soft dizzy feeling of early summer.
And like the month itself, the poem sways between romantic thrill and a slightly ironic distance.
June, after all, is under the sign of duality — Gemini — the twin, the mirror, ever changing.

Days stretch longer, nights grow shorter.
In Celtic tradition, this was the month of Lugh or Belenos, sun gods who represented radiance, health, and life.
The sun — symbol of the heart, the center around which everything else turns.
Christian tradition later echoed this with the Sacred Heart: Jesus’s heart, pierced by a Roman lance, yet glowing with divine love.
So June, the sixth month, becomes a moment of reflection, a subtle pause — counterpoint to the frenzy of exams and competitions.
A time to gather ourselves, to breathe deeply, to prepare — for the harvest ahead.

And as always, the sun comes down to earth with the fires of Saint John’s Day — la Saint-Jean.
Bonfires blazing like bits of sun on the land, bringing light, warmth, strength to humans and animals, and chasing away evil spirits.
The feast, now dedicated to Saint John the Baptist, recalls its older Celtic roots in Bel — the radiant one — protector of the collective more than the individual.
It’s a call to community celebrations, a rhythm of time, labor, and joy that keeps chaos at bay.
The Fire of Joy, even in 2025, still works its magic.

The summer solstice nears, promising future abundance — if the sun and a gentle rain have made their pact.
Especially the June mist, that soft veil we too often forget when we imagine this month as only golden and bright.
While we wait, let’s listen to French singer Georges Moustaki sing his “Chanson du mois de juin”(Listen here : https://youtu.be/s-IJICXHkSc?feature=shared)

“Et les dieux libertaires s’amusaient à danser” / “And the libertarian gods were dancing in delight…”

Or take a moment to discover one of the most beautiful Belarusian folk songs: “Kupalinka” (listen here).
This haunting melody tells the story of the heroine of Kupala Night, the Slavic counterpart to Saint John’s Eve, celebrating the summer solstice.
I invite you to watch the video: it features powerful choral voices, mist-covered nature, and a stirring blend of melancholy and festivity.

June is about freedom too.
June 1848. June 18, 1940 — De Gaulle’s call, a moment of “instinctive will” (Mémoires de guerre, 1956).

So, let’s remember the sun, the heart, youth — blended with a welcome mist and poetry:

« Parfumez bien le cœur Qui va goûter la vie ».

“Perfume the heart
That’s about to taste life.”

— “June,” Leconte de Lisle