Loosely using the word ode, but I want to celebrate November.
It’s a month that often gets lost between the beginning of autumn
September, October, and the festivities of December.
So, let’s love November…
I set my latest manuscript in the first week of November, and while writing during August, September, and October I worried I’d got it wrong. But November and the dates I was describing came around and it was perfect!
My favourite month is October, which is full of moss and lichen, leaves turning, late warmth, and Halloween. Then comes November, and we usually hurry through it complaining about the cold and rushing about organising Christmas!
November is beautiful. I think I might be Elsa, as the cold doesn’t bother me anyway, but this month it’s been warm and the chill of winter has only just begun to bite. I love the clocks going back, I love the drawn in nights, the cosy darkness cuddling into the sofa with a hot chocolate and furry blanket.
I don’t mind turning the heating on. I am Scrooge with it, but the heating helps me check my privilege. I have it, some don’t, and sometimes we all need to be reminded of what we have versus what we don’t.
I love the mist and fog, the ethereal beauty of the end of autumn. The silver mist and the gold leaf of forests full of copper, bronze, and gold. My manuscript contains forests of beech and oak and November is the month they gild our countryside.
We’re about to enter the glitz and bling of Winter – but I think autumn
with its earthy colours and metallic sheen is my most favourite.
What about you?
I love this time of year, though it’s laced with loss for me, as so many of the people I have loved and lost have been in October and November. I love the light at this time of year. But I love each season, too.
I appreciate that, December is a month with loss for us, but it’s so busy you don’t have time to think…
I do love the intensity of the sunlight moving into winter, though it’s not so much fun driving into it! Great for photos though.
To each season its time, I guess – I greet the first gales with masochistic pleasure, breathe the snowy whip of winter joyfully enough, but when the third month stretches to a fourth, I am tired and impatient for change. The world rushes past as it should. Beyond this window this morning a grey fog is being swirled and beaten by a cold wind, It should be snowing – I’ve no idea why it isn’t!
I am ready for Winter now!