“I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.” — Lucy Maud Montgomery
Eventually, quite boring, I expect. But I do understand the sentiment. Even though we’re sweltering here in the mid-90s at the moment, with humidity almost as high, and I’ve assumed my English “summer privilege,” which has me sweating like a horse from the moment the temperature reaches the mid-60s until the first snow, and complaining about the scorching heat the entire time.
Still, I’ve been in Prince Edward Island in June, so I can quite see why someone would hold that up as the perfect month, from the chill that still strikes at night in the early days until the wild lupins start to flower toward the end.
It’s a lovely place. Where it’s always sunny (well, almost), I’m forever young and lissome, and it’s always June in my heart:
