In November, the smell of food is different. It is an orange smell. A squash and a pumpkin smell. It tastes like cinnamon and can fill up a house in the morning, can pull everyone from bed in a fog. Food is better in November than any other time of the year.
In November, people are good to each other. They carry pies to each other's homes and talk by crackling woodstoves, sipping mellow cider.
They travel very far on a special day just to share a meal with one another and to give thanks for their many blessings -- for the food on their table and the babies in their arms.
And then they travel back home.
In November, at winter's gate, the stars are brittle. The sun is a sometime friend. And the world has tucked her children in, with a kiss on their heads, till spring.
from In November by Cynthia Rylant
Oh, what rain and wind we've had! Most of the leaves have blown from the trees. The acorns have finally stopped hitting the house. We've been eating pumpkin waffles for breakfast and cramming clementines into brown paper bags to share with neighbors and friends. And we smile. There is family waiting for us in Tennessee. We have miles to go before we reach them. There will be hugs and hot drinks, laden tables and more bare trees there. And people we love. We will come together and rejoice in the bounty of the Lord. May you do the same this Thanksgiving Day... and all the days!
They will come and shout for joy on the heights of Zion;
they will rejoice in the bounty of the Lord...