November

 

November sky
November sky (Photo credit: Grant MacDonald)

 

November

 

The quiet, calm of the early morning hours is precious.  Looking up, through the window, toward the heavens, the sky is gray. It is late November; soon the land will be held captive in the icy grip of winter. Thick clouds blanket the sky, their coverlet, absolute.  Winter is coming; there can be no doubt.  Unexpected patches of white dot through the gray sky, as if someone randomly patched cotton balls into the gauzy, grayed clouds above.  The sky like a paint box, white shades muddied and grayed by the black that mixes through.  Aging November.

 

Still, it is beautiful, even melancholy, in the darkened hours of the morning.  The stillness is comforting; there are no disagreements to voice, no pressing needs to plan around, it is the perfect time to be alone with one’s thoughts, to dream, to plan, and to remember.  When the children were babes, this small slice of morning was coveted time, rising early to prepare for the onslaught of the day, savoring the quiet stillness before the day unfurled.  There was breakfast, daycare, school, work, meetings, groceries to pick up, dinner to make, and homework to oversee.  There were baths and bedtime; there was never enough time. Always wishing for some time to be still. Now there is enough time, the children have grown and life unrolls for them.  One sits in the quiet stillness and wishes for their chaotic return.  Bittersweet November.

 

There is a peaceful calm in the early morning.  The gray clouds begin to lift, patches of light peek through, unwrapping a blue-gray day, an unexpected gift from the universe for you. Something given.  How will you use this gift? Whom will you share it with?  Perhaps, the day will be yours to shape alone.  Beautiful November.

 

Rainy Day

This morning, I sit in silence, listening to the rain as its steady patter hits the roof.  I imagine the soft water droplets exploding after their harsh landing, scattering into the air and gutters. Free falling.  The coffee is black, strong and hot, just the way that I like it.  The house is still, darkened by the smoke grey clouds blanketing the sky.  Only the light cast from the lamp illuminates the desk where I sit, musing on the morning.  I realize how much I enjoy these quiet, melancholy mornings.

To be honest, I love grey, wet mornings.  There is something beautiful about a universe that lets her world have a good cry of tears, every once in a while. It’s cathartic, as if the universe is saying, Just let go, it is what it is, let it be.  A lovely cleansing of sorts, preparing us for the eventual return of sunshine and clear skies. For when it happens we will be ready to appreciate the bright changes all the more.  Let some light into the darkness.

This is a baking morning.  Quiet, grey, wet mornings  demand an audience; they want to be treated as special guests.  Turn on the oven, the warmth from within fills the kitchen.  Carefully select, mix and stir the ingredients. Savor the cinnamon and vanilla.  Put the darling into the oven.  Blanket it in warmth for a spell.  Delicious goodness awaits.  A simple action that sustains.  Blissful, unhurried moments on a rainy day morning.