November Reflection

I always feel wistful when October draws to an end but then November arrives all quiet and golden and I love her just as well. Hello, old friend, I'm happy to walk with you through mild days of russet and garnet, chilly nights, and on toward damp and gray as you sweetly, quietly settle the earth for her winter's nap. It's an important task, this putting the earth to sleep.

It rained during the night. In the morning our patio was covered with soggy leaves and I found puddles on the picnic table reflecting November trees. November is a reflective month for me, a time for remembering and pondering, a time for savoring delightful, mundane days before the season of festivity with its calendar and activities begins in earnest. I like the way Anne put it... 
"After all," Anne had said to Marilla once, "I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string."
And so these early days of November, certainly not devoid of hardships and grief, have been mostly happy, ordinary days. Simple meals at the kitchen table, a ladybug {and new shoots!} on my orchid, Honeycrisp apples in the fruit bowl, golden leaves, boys inspecting school lunches, outdoor meanderings {Sister calls them leaf-walks}, lamp-lit evenings, new library books, family gathered, and the fireplace glowing brightly. November days so nice and sweet slip past but not before I notice them.