Ode to November
Just as quietly as October became November, the praying mantis sways silently with the bobbing cattails. Squirrels & chipmunks making their presence known only by scurrying under fallen leaves as they gather the last of their winter stock.
November I have discovered a newfound love in your candlelit early nights & building chilling winds as you shake off what's left of summer & beckon winter into your arms. But for now you quietly wake from October's past & remind us to sip our hot teas or coffees or ciders hinted with bourbon or whathaveyous & breathe in the scent of cinnamon & maple & cranberry & pumpkin.
We bid a loving adieu to the last few leaves, now in varying shades of sienna, russet, & copper, clinging desperately to their branches. Before long, we'll be living in a snow-globe of glistening white & ice. Long gone are the days of lush greenery & budding flora. Your world is a sepia filter with a hint of orange or a kiss of red, scattered, almost like an afterthought.
This gentle lull you give us, the calm before holiday frenzy sets in & we're all clamoring to hang mistletoe, craft snowflakes, nail down the final details of the charcuterie board for evening gatherings, pore obsessively over handed down, so so secret recipes, worn with age & written ever so lovingly by those who have passed, wrap dearly thought out presents carefully as we envision the face of the one who opens it, & every other minute yet oh so beautiful detail that give rise to the most wonderful time of the year.