The people born in June that I know seem to be blessed with good fortune. Gemini or Cancer makes little difference. For them flowers seem to grow, gardens thrive, friends remain loyal, and, if it rains, they open perfect umbrellas. There are many poems and songs and stories that mention their month. The sun is mild, the air is fresh and there are many blossoms. They can pick the ripe, swollen blackberries, fat red tomatoes or juicy apricots.
The daughters were sometimes named "June" in the past. Some were talented, comely and famous: June Allyson, June Haver, June Havoc. Today the name is uncommon. I can't think of anyone in the public eye named June in 2009. Can you?
I was a December baby. I read that one of the favorite hymns in England is titled something about "Bleak December". December is the final month to find some write offs for your income tax. Christmas is in December, but if you have a birthday in that month, you often get one gift for both occasions. December seems to have an icy connotation. You bundle up and keep the mentholatum handy.
The Sagittarians are archers with arrows in the bow. The Capricorns are centaurs also armed with arrows at the ready. Seems December's babies are born ready to defend themselves or others. Good fortune? I guess we must defend what we have or fight for some.
I have a fondness for my winter birth month. But no poet ever wrote, "Oh, what is so rare as a day in December?" It behooves us to knit mittens and remember that.
