|November view from my window|
The trees are mostly bare, the skies are grey, and the grass is covered with a blanket of brown leaves.
The vibrant colors of October are once again done for the year. And the pristine white of snow and ice has yet to come. (thankfully)
We are in the between time. Perched on the cusp of winter, but not there yet. The major holidays approaching, but I'm still not in the holiday mood. I have yet to begin my Christmas list. And don't get me started on the subject of Christmas music in November.
The decor is caved-in pumpkins and corn stalks. Christmas lights won't begin showing up for another week or two.
Which is probably why November is the prime time for Thanksgiving. It gives all of us, and especially pessimistic me, the opportunity to remember the plethora of things we have to be thankful for.
To choose to be thankful. Even in the grey.
I am thankful for the two gorgeous first days of November that we had. Sunshine and crisp.
I am thankful for my duvet. Friday I washed all the sheets on all our beds and remade up everything with piles of winter blankets.
|the cozy duvet|
I am thankful for relatively good health. We are on our first colds of the season, but no flu, as yet.
I am thankful for Mr. Hippie. His buffness. His daily encouragement to me. I don't deserve his unswerving loyalty and undying love.
I am thankful for the Barefoot Hippie offspring. BMV, Freckles, LC and Meres. I don't deserve them either. Their love. The laughter they bring to my life. And, speaking of Meres, I've got the perfect pic to show you...
|that's talent, I tell you. Double fisted picking. Oh my!|
I am thankful for pots of hot coffee and tea to warm the innards.
I am thankful that I took the time to paint with my kids on Friday. No masterpieces. But it was fun to stretch ourselves and practice new techniques.
I am thankful for Beach Boys radio. I love watching my family bee-bop to the beat.
I am thankful for each and every one of you who are part of the Barefoot Hippie community. Who follow here, or on email, or FB, or twitter. Who are brand new, or who faithfully come back, day after day.
I am thankful that it is November and that we are once again starting on a new Robert Frost poem. This month we are learning
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.