I do so love the quieter days of November in Merryville. Well, as quiet as they can be while accompanied by blustery wind, raindrops dancing on the window panes and thunder adding its own exciting deep voice to the stormy music that has replaced the softer songs we heard in the earlier days of autumn. A powerful voice it is, indeed. One that reverberates within my chest and reminds me of Mr. Pavarotti, and makes me long for spaghetti at a table dressed in red and white checks, snowy napkins, and chianti bottles with drippy candles. It is Mother Nature's way of preparing us for the winter months that are on their way, I suppose. We are to have snow in the mountains this weekend, and another stormy and noisy concert is expected here in the lowlands this afternoon, and tonight, as well. Our power went out in the very early morning hours recently, and I have to admit to finding a certain kind of childlike happiness in the closeness it brought into our home. Reading by candlelight, legs tucked up under a homemade quilt, I think Mr. Staggs and I both felt just the slightest bit of disappointment, when the lights came back on, and the magic that comes with such events disappeared into the sunrise. Still, the coziness of November, remains.
I find myself in the kitchen more lately. Not only cooking, but sitting at our small kitchen table catching up with correspondence, and doing a little stitching on occasion, while keeping an eye on whatever it is that slowly cooks during the late afternoon hours. I love a cozy kitchen, and ours seems especially so right now. The combination of autumn decorating, a bit of music in the background, and the scent of a good hearty stew cooking, seems to make the thought of shorter days a welcome pleasure, rather than something to just "get through", the way so many people do. Life is much too short to feel that way. Sometimes, just a vase of flowers or a good book and a cup of tea is all it takes to cozy up a day. Other days require a bit more. I know I'm looking around, and I'm seeing much to be grateful for, not the least of which is the sight of pumpkins, autumn leaves and lamplight spilling across polished wooden tables. The sleeping kitty who keeps me company while I sit and sew or read brings a smile to my face, and eases my heart when I feel sad. I love warm socks, and longer sleeves, and splashing through puddles, and the feel of rain upon my face. The scent of mums says "autumn" to me, and the smell of beeswax does too, it seems.
