Happy November. Now there is something you won't often hear me say. November is a cold gray month, that seems pretty much like the forced march into the depths of winters, dull, chill grasp.
Sometimes I laughingly call it kitchen month as it is the time when I seem to be always cooking, putting up carrots, Brussels sprouts,celery, even potatoes. In a good year there are pears and apples and even pumpkins to turn into fruit butter. The first wild edible, the wonderfully stinky garlic like leeks are still months away. You will notice i don't consider grocery store produce fresh food.
I get serious about seeing that I have enough of everything on hand to last for a couple weeks, not that as yet I have been snowed in for more than a day, may-be two. There was a time when I lived even farther out in the trees and rarely went into town, and it never happened there either.
Since man or woman does not live by bread alone, I scout out a few volumes a the discarded book sales that I might like to read, when the nights are even longer, and the snow and ice have covered the satellite dish. Or I would just rather enjoy a quiet house and do a bit of reading. When I am feeling creative, I can always find something to fix remake or re arrange.
Soon keeping the fire going will take up alot of my time, but it will always be a magical sight to me. A souse of heat and exercise and primordial magic.
The festive Charlie Brown themed Thanksgiving curtains are up, and the smoked turkey is taking up space in the freezer, as I go about my daily chores I try to think of what I am thankful for. There are always going to be things left that didn't get done, things I will get to in the spring or next fall, and those last minute ideas, that get put on the someday list.
So welcome November, even though i mot quite sure why.