Wednesday, November 2, 2011

November Appreciation

Yesterday the calendar flipped to November, which frankly, I find rather depressing. Why? Because this year is flying by...hours turn into days turn in months turn into years. Which more and more seems a summary of my life the longer I live. But also, November ranks among my least favorite months of the year, right up there with February. It does contain my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving-which I'm sure I will blog about later this month. But the reason I just don't like November is because its a "between" month. The vibrant colors and warm fall temps of September and October are a distant memory. The pristine snow and holiday cheer of December are yet to come. The trees are bare, the sky is too often grey, and it just seems a bit bleak. Of course, today is a beautiful sunshiny day, but you know what I mean.=)
A friend posted a portion of Robert Frost's poem, November Guest, as her status yesterday. She reminded me that life seasons are like year seasons. Each are beautiful in their own way. Each have their good parts and their not so good parts. When I was younger my favorite seasons were summer and winter-the extremes. At this point in my life I appreciate the balance of spring and fall. The promise of new life in spring. The crisp gorgeousness of fall. As I looked up and read this poem, it reminded me that there is something of beauty even in bleak November and interminably wintery February. I hope you enjoy this bit of Robert Frost.

My November Guest
My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
 Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
 Are beautiful as days can be;
 She loves the bare, the withered tree;
 She walks the sodden pasture lane.
 Her pleasure will not let me stay.
 She talks and I am fain to list:
 She's glad the birds are gone away,
 She's glad her simple worsted grey
 Is silver now with clinging mist.
 The desolate, deserted trees,
 The faded earth, the heavy sky,
 The beauties she so truly sees,
 She thinks I have no eye for these,
 And vexes me for reason why.
 Not yesterday I learned to know
 The love of bare November days
 Before the coming of the snow,
 But it were vain to tell her so,
 And they are better for her praise.

So I tell myself, "Self, how about some November appreciation?"