Father's Day makes June one of the masculine months. The poem for this one came easily. It describes what Father's Day was like for me when the youngest of my children were small. It was 1984 and they were ages 3 and 5. We had gone for a walk in our woods with dog and cat in tow. My daughter had been picking buttercups and handed me her little bouquet. With such a sweet voice, she said, "Happy Father's Day." As I started to write about this, I thought of other impressions of June. Verse three describes the experience of June in Michigan. The title, "The Making of June" became a personal recipe.
Although the poem came easily, it was rich in imagery and too much to capture in a single photo. It wasn't until 2010 than an opportunity came for a photo. It was June, and I had been picking buttercups for my real estate office. A client came in with a little girl and I asked them to pose for a photo.