June in Alabama seems like a momentous time of the year to me. We always focus our seasonal adoration on spring or fall, due to the pleasing temperatures, but June holds a unique place in our yearly cycle.

June is hot, but not July or August hot, just the kind of hot that makes you take more frequented breaks after working in the sun.

It is sleeping with the windows open and hearing the frogs and crickets or a spur of the moment shower that decided to pass over.

June is walking between rows of corn that are starting to fight their way past knee height and picking the squash that have decided to already come.

It is driving behind tractors on highways as the smell of fresh cut hay drifts into the open window.

June is the almost blinding reflections on the river water whose temperature is finally warm enough to jump into.

It is the glow on our skin that’s finally seeing the sun’s rays.

June is the anticipation of a garden tomato sandwich and a fresh ear of corn.

It is the read a book on your porch kind of time.

For me, June in Alabama is a listless time that seems to move slower and it’s qualities seem specifically appreciated by us southerners.

Emily Kirby is a staff writer for the Times-Journal. She can be reached at ekirby@times-journal.com.

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