Every June, the moon had a name. And everyone knew what it meant.
For countless generations before anyone wrote it down, the Indigenous peoples of the Northeast watched for the June moon — the Strawberry Moon — and knew that the berries were ready. Small, intensely sweet, warm from the sun. The first real fruit of summer after a long, cold wait.
They didn't just eat them. They celebrated them.
The Wampanoag of Massachusetts — the same people who walked the shores of Plymouth long before anyone else — marked the Strawberry Moon each June with gathering, friendship, and healing. They mashed the berries into cold water and brewed strawberry moon tea with sassafras. They mixed them into cornmeal and baked the world's first strawberry bread — the ancestor of every strawberry shortcake that ever came out of a New England kitchen. They dried the excess in the sun and pressed them into provisions for the winter ahead.
Nothing was wasted. Everything was celebrated.
These stones came from those same shores. And somehow — impossibly — they look exactly like what grew there.
The Stones
These are almost certainly unakite — a metamorphic rock of coral-red feldspar, deep olive-green epidote, and dark quartz, grown together over millions of years into something that looks exactly like fruit. The red is vivid and warm, the green sweeps through in soft bands like leaves curling around a berry. Every face is different. Every angle reveals a new strawberry.
The Strawberry Moon comes every June. These you can keep all year.
Hand-collected from Plymouth, Massachusetts. Never tumbled. Never treated. Each set is one of a kind.
