Gorgeous wouldn’t get it in describing June. There’s not a word that would.

Picture Katharine Hepburn with Twiggy’s eyes, only blue. Like Aegean ocean blue with the sun running through them, and eyelashes the color of a Palomino.

She wore her hair piled on top of her head, held by a comb, equally as gorgeous and always unique. Her clothes, from straw hats to shoes, which looked like Mary Poppins’, were a rare combination of organic and elegant. Just like June.

I ate my first homemade grits at June’s table, and to this day — the best collard greens and mustard greens I’ve ever tasted and still can’t duplicate. Always at the center of her table was an arrangement, thoroughly June. She’d take vegetables and arrange them in a bowl, or pluck flowers out of her yard, or grasses growing in a ditch — plop them in a pitcher and voila — art!

She was all about beauty and soul. Everything around June felt textured. Real. Yet every moment with her was like being around magic. I was enchanted.

Two weeks before my mother died, June came to visit. She entered the hospital room wearing a wide brimmed hat that, just seeing ... made you happy. I stood silently listening to their exchange, realizing that even in saying goodbye, June was exquisite. At age twenty-eight, I was still enchanted by June. At age thirty-six, I felt no differently.

I was about to marry and we both wanted the ceremony small and personal. Wanting the same thing in my wedding dress, I went to June and asked for “something borrowed.”

She served lunch — with a pitcher full of sunflowers staring at us — then led me into a room with a huge trunk at the foot of a bed.

June knew exactly the dress. Before she could put her hands on it however, she had to dig — through garments I don’t remember individually, only that it was like Pandora’s box. Except from this one, everything that poured forth was beyond beautiful.

“Here,” said June. “This is the one,” passing the dress over as though it was a child.

Picture roses, small berries, leaves and twigs — all in shades of white and hand-woven together in a linen sheer — trimmed with petite designs of lace. I walked down the aisle wearing this as a wedding gift from June, with pink wildflowers poked in my hair straight from her yard.

It was and still is, the prettiest dress I have ever seen. Just like June.