Berries are Fairy Fruit: June Moon Folklore
June 1st is dedicated to Cardea.
A goddess of the hinge, doorways, and thresholds, Cardea is no stranger to the fairy world. She began her life as a nymph tottering around her father's wooded grove, and as she grew older, Cardea befriended the flowers and huntresses. She never planned to marry, but when Janus, the two-faced god of new beginnings, took a liking to the maiden, her hand was forced. In exchange for her love, Janus gave the nymph his hinge – a 'gift' that ensured she'd cling to him until the end of time. Through this unwelcome union, Cardea the nymph was immortalized as a guardian of liminal places, Hawthorn trees, and the things upon which our hearts hinge.
In the ancient Roman world, the Goddess's feast day was on June 1st. People honored her by cleaning their doorways and anointing the sills and hinges with herbal potions. Hawthorn boughs (or limbs from other trees with white flowers and juicy berries) were hung over thresholds and entryways. Once the homes' boundaries were purified and blessed, meddlesome spirits and unwelcome visitors were cast back out into the wild.
Apart from restless shades, the adorably curious but mischievous Fae Folk were also said to be quite lively come June. And with the Summer Solstice showing up later in the month (around June 21st), people might affirm their physical boundaries with food. To keep the peace between the living and dead, a handful of berries, sweet bread, or another edible offering was left near the perimeter of a person's land – a tradition that still exists today.
And if you weren't sure what the local Fae liked to eat, you'd only have to take a peak in the garden.
In some parts of the Northern Hemisphere, June marked the start of berry season. Known as the Strawberry Moon, Blackberry Moon, Raspberry Moon, or Garden Moon, June's moon was dedicated to the berries ripening in the wild. Originally named by indigenous communities throughout Northern America and Canada, June is a welcome reminder that all things bloom in their own time. Just like the berries in the garden, the flowers on the vine, and yes, even you. Especially you.
June's moon is also known as the Rose Moon (European origin), Flowering Moon (Ojibwe origin), Lotus Moon (Chinese origin), Mead Moon (Anglo-Saxon origin), and Planting Moon (neo-Pagan origin). But, lunar nickname aside, it's the plump berries that have our attention right now. With their juicy centers and seedy flesh, they almost seem to glow beneath a Midsummer moon - because after all, berries are fairy fruit.
With their scarlet skin and round bellies, strawberries have long been associated with magick for the heart, love, and passionate adventures. They're governed by the moon, the element of water, and fertility goddesses like the Roman Venus.
Plant Witches know that the day you sow the seed is not the same day you prune the leaves or harvest the flowers, but time is of the essence when working with this fairy fruit. Unlike nuts and root vegetables that can be cured and stored, freshly plucked strawberries invite us to taste their succulence right away. Like the things we love, if we try to tuck our berries away for another day, their sweetness can spoil. The 1st-century poet Ovid believed strawberries were gifts from the wild - growing bigger, heartier, and more desirable if untouched by human hands.
We see the innate magick of this plant in the tale of The Three Little Men in the Wood by the Brothers Grimm, when a maiden is sent out into the woods during the heart of winter. Her wicked stepmother demands she not return until her basket is full of juicy strawberries, but with snow covering the ground, the maiden knows this task will be near-impossible.
Wearing only a paper dress and carrying the crust of some old bread, the girl ventures into the deepest, darkest part of the woods. To her surprise, she finds a cozy cottage with smoke spiraling out the chimney. Three curious men invite her inside, and as she warms herself by their fire, she asks if they've spied any strawberries growing nearby. The men chuckle at the silly girl's suggestion, and respond with a question of their own - will she share her bread with them? The girl obediently hands over what's left of the hardened crusts, and then the men tell her to sweep all the snow from the cobblestone path in their backyard. Since the men had shown her such kindness, the girl is happy to oblige. But while she works, the three men secretly cast blessings in her direction.
She will grow more beautiful with each passing day, one declares. And each time she speaks, a gold coin will appear on her tongue, the second one decides. And when the time comes for her to marry, she will meet a kind, loving King, the third man concludes.
As the story goes, the girl finishes sweeping and uncovers a wild patch of scarlet berries! With her basket miraculously full, the maiden gifts her new friends a handful of fruit and bids them farewell. One by one, the men's prophecies come to fruition, and to the dismay of the girl's wicked stepmother, the maiden is crowned Queen. The Queen and King live happily ever after, all thanks to a patch of mysterious berries…
In folklore, while strawberries can be our full moon and a joyous light at the end of a harrowing tunnel, their cousin, the blackberry, is a bit thornier.
Think of the blackberry as the dark moon or a representative of the things that go bump in the night. Associated with vampires, fairies, and witches, blackberries can be used magickally to banish, repel, or protect. Legend says that if blackberry vines grow on your property, local vampires (both energetic and literal) will become so enamored with each thorn and bud and berry, that they lose their thirst for blood. And when the sun rises the next morning, the monsters (who will still be drooling over the berries) are turned to dust.
Unlike strawberries, blackberries don't ripen until harvest season, when most of the earth is drying up and turning crispy. Come August and September, garden gates and entrances framed by blackberry vines begin to fruit - an incredibly lucky occurrence. Some suggest that blackberry arches are portals to the Otherworld, and any ailment can be remedied by walking beneath their canopy of thorns. As plant allies to Triple Goddesses like the Celtic Brighid and Greek Aphrodite, the strawberry and blackberry's three-pronged leaves allude to their role as holy trinities among plants. Both plants can be utilized by themselves or in tandem for magickal workings around:
Linking the seen with the unseen - weaving the above into the below.
Lunar offerings, shapeshifting, and spells of duality.
Building a relationship with the Fae Folk, Cardea (or another thorned or heart-centered goddess), ancestral and plant spirits.
Boundaries, limits, and the entryways of what we love.
Doorways and thresholds. What choices hinge upon their openings and closings?
Sweetness lingers beneath our full strawberry moon. So this month, pick the fairy fruit, pen love letters, whisper poetry to anyone who will listen, and share each enchanting story upon which your heart hinges.
And a big thank you to everyone who joined in on our Spooky Spring Challenge!
Hosted by Pointy Hat Press, the Spooky Spring Series was inspired by haunted hearts, spectral travelers, and confessional poetry. One lucky winner will be chosen TODAY and shared via social on June 4th, 12pm EST - just in time for the full moon! Check out some of our favorite submissions on the Moon & Vine blog, including The Meeting Place by Carley Rice.
The Meeting Place by Carley Rice
On a ripe spring day
Amongst the ancient herbs,
And the buttercups, and milkweed
“Come” whispers the shagbark hickory tree
My sun soaked body rests
Against the cool shadowed grass
My bones sigh as my flesh soaks in the damp, visceral spells of the witch’s garden
Into an enchanted slumber
The scent of misty earth guides me
deep into my roots, while the songs of crows echo in the distance
It is here in the serpentine psyche
Where I meet the Phantom Queen
Cloaked amidst verdurous fog
Sheepishly I peer at Her beguiling presence
She is death and rebirth
Sacred fire and dark water
Terrifying and awe-inspiring
As our gazes lock, I feel the tornadic waves of sovereignty swell within me
A solemn knowing nod from the Great Queen
“Teach them my stories” she calls
as she flies away.