It’s two-thirds gone and I can hardly wait for it to be over. November is not my idea of month. It’s more like a jail term for the infraction of loving blue skies and colour.
I have a friend who LOVES November. In part because his birthday is in November, but also in part because where he lives (Australia), the weather is warmer and sunnier and the cricket season is underway. I think it’s why we broke up; well, complete opposite ideas about November and the fact that he was a cricketer. (If you can’t explain how a game is played in three sentences or fewer, including how scoring happens, however much I love you, we have a relationship challenge.)
Anyway, to return the to dull greyness that is November here… I stand at the kitchen window and look out at the sad piles of leaves, sunk down by sleet and rain, and remember what they were once, hanging on the maple and oak trees in the neighbourhood. I watch clouds, heavy with precipitation, scudding across the sky, hiding any hope of sunshine, thinking they seem very satisfied with their gloominess. I watch the barometer fall, almost as fast as the thermometer, and wonder if it’s actually possible to sleep for 29 days.
I would wake up for (American) Thanksgiving. Pumpkin pie, doncha know?? Plus, eat enough turkey, and you just fall right back to sleep again!
My girlhood hero, Anne Shirley (she of “Green Gables” fame) agrees with me, but Lucy Maud Montgomery puts it so much better than I:
“November is usually such a disagreeable month as if the year had suddenly found out she was growing old and could do nothing but weep and fret over it.”
Some might think I’m railing against November because it means another year is slipping to an end, and as I grow older, there are fewer and fewer Novembers to come to me. But if that hypothesis were true, I would feel the same about December, more so perhaps, because it is the end of the year. December, though is bright. Even if there are snow squalls and icy roads, bone-chilling temperatures and outrageous heating bills, there is a brightness to a month that encourages us to put out and turn on our brightest lights. We fill our homes with the smell of pine and gingerbread. We spend our time and money looking for ways to please our family and friends with gifts, not to mention a little something or two for ourselves. We eat too much and drink too much, and love every mouthful. And even if we think we can’t stand the holiday season, there is always, always, one moment, one sight, which makes us think… ‘so this is how the Grinch’s heart grew so big’. From the movie:
“I’m all toasty inside. And I’m leaking.”
I think we’re all looking forward to becoming toasty inside… As soon as we get over November.
And just so you know… this is a month and a vista I could live with always… Thanks for sharing it over (Canadian) Thanksgiving, Michael & Rita.