It seemed pointless. Everything died. My mom's garden withered up. The lilacs leaves turned a papery grey and blew away. The apples plunked off the tree and lay in sweet stinking heaps around the orchard. The green golden fields turned burgundy orange, then dull grey.
Everything growing and green that I loved about our little farm was gone. My outside play world. There was no snow yet to make things interesting. Maybe just angry rain that kept us inside our tiny house too long. And Christmas was AGES away. (I was a dramatic child... Whaaaat?????? That doesn't surprise you????? HA HA HA)
Now, though, as an adult. Well, in college November became The Month of Hope. Finals were around the corner. Everything was scurry busy get it done. And lots of good cozy house parties with candles and huge fires in the fireplaces of the old New England houses we lived in.
As a mother, well, I straddle the line between the two worlds.
Good cozy house with a fire in the hearth (well, the wood stove) and candles (far out of reach of the children) I've moved from kegs to boxed wine however. Ha. And my background music has changed from wailing yet meaningful rock and roll (ahhhh, the 90s!) to Gregorian chants (I'm dorkily into it, just for the peace of Medieval music)
And, well, we now have the angst of the Christmas wait in three similarly spirited children. (Who ME, have SPIRITED CHILDREN? With ANGST? WHHHHAAAAA???) And there is no snow. They are sad about that. I am relieved. No really, I HATE driving in snow. (Also, I say hate now. But not in front of my children. HA) So I take them hiking. "Its not cold!" I say, "PUT ON A JACKET THEN." And we drive to grandma's. And I am living it up in anticipation of the snow that puts a damper on my willingness to haul kids around God's no-longer-green-earth.
And I drink coffee. And read. And write.
And yes, I am kind of a fan of November now. Even the grey days. I can do it. Because the sun of our glorious fall is still bright in my mind. Time to pick up the knitting (I aim to knit all the kids special hats for the winter) and bring in more wood to stoke up the fire, and pick the last of the greens and beets out in the garden, and breathe in the stillness of the woods (before the insanity of the holidays hit).
AH. November. I hug you. But first, of course, time for another pot of coffee.