Sweet November

Normally, she didn't consider November a good month.
After all, November tends to be damp.  Gray.  Dark.  Cold. Did she mention damp?

However, this particular November was different, somehow.

First off, it wasn't nearly as cold as it could potentially have been.  And, given that she could live with incessant drizzle, it was warm.  There was no snow on the ground.  In fact, the grass still clung fiercely to some vestiges of green, almost as if defying mother nature.  Winter?  Bring it on!  We'll fight it.

And in that aspect, at least, she and the grass were one.  Fighting the change of seasons, the warm to cool, as the languishing summer sun and breath of sweet thunderstorms wafting into the open window were chased away by the gusty interruption of fall and insipid creep of chill and frost and damp.

Strong little sprouts, standing proud and stubborn in the face of inevitable change.  

November was amazing.  There was abundance, for once.  There was laughter ringing through the walls of the house, most days.  Nothing was more warming during this year's late fall than the reverberation of a little girl's uninhibited giggle, the throaty laughter of girlfriends enjoying a Pinot Grigio, the muffled chuckles of early morning and late evening underneath flannel sheets.

More than that, the little cream stucco house was always light.  The neighbors sat in their kitchens, looking toward it, saying, why dear, there's another party next door.  They are always entertaining!  Really, we should have them over for dinner some night.

Late into most evenings, the little house glowed orange with laughter and warmth and the light of candles.  The dogs barked happily, chasing their tails, chasing scraps of dinner.  When the back door opened, puffs of apple and cinnamon, clouds of pumpkin,  vanilla, chocolate, sugar, garlic, all popped out the door, making the dog-walkers quicken pace to get home for dinner.  Coffee brewed at precisely 5:48 every morning, rousing the sleepy occupants.

Yes, November was unequivocally not shabby this year.

Late November, a sweet evening full of sunset and unseasonable warmth, found her standing on the back porch, cooling a pumpkin pie, shooing an insistent hound, fanning the warmth of standing next to the oven away.  It was irresistible delicious to stand outdoors barefoot in November, allowing her toes to take a bittersweet walk along cool concrete and outdoor carpet.  She knew that she'd have to change soon, slip out of the pants and T-shirt that bore the battle wounds of the day in the kitchen.  Guests would be here soon.

With candles lit and acoustic guitar strumming mellowly along, she dashed up the stairs to put the final touches on the afternoon.

Meanwhile, friends started trickling into the little cream stucco house.  Greeted by candlelight, chilled Chardonnay, subtle strains from the stereo and a wave of cinnamon, cloves, and butter from the kitchen.

They cooked and prepared and snacked and introduced and greeted.
Laughed at stories old and new.

Descending the stairs and venturing to the kitchen, she wondered at the delight dancing in her husband's eyes.
As the turkey was carved, she marvelled at the infectious laugh of the woman at the next table.  
She stifled a giggle at a priceless joke and dabbed at a tear from laughing as she dashed for the whipped cream and pies.

There was abundance of abundance, as guests ate their fill, and drank in good company as the sweetest apéritif.

As sunlight waned outside, conversation and camaraderie swelled indoors.  
Voices rang like church bells in the distance, reminiscent and distinct, giving thanks for light and dark and passing and yet to be.  Together, the thanksgiving crescendos to a chorus of blessings, an aria of abundance, a symphony of sweet time passing and being and yet to come.

As the orange halo of the day's sun bobbed and teased and finally ducked under the naked skeletons of oaks and maples, she had a chance to step back and look around.

She observed the warmth of it all and smiled.
A circle of friendship makes the sweetest choir.
From now on, it would be called Sweet November.