Sandwiched between the October glories of autumn and the delights of December venison for the freezer and holiday celebrations, November sometimes seems to exude only gloom.
Warm, sunny days early in the month invariably are a prelude to cloudy, blustery blasts that remind us the season is changing – fast!
Those winds dislodged most of the remaining leaves, turning the woods gray-brown – about the color of the white-tailed deer lurking there, almost unseen. We clung to a few greens – small clumps of late-planted lettuce that we diligently blanketed against frosty nights. Those last fresh salads were worth the effort – especially when topped with tiny broccoli nubbins from remnant plants.
Easy as it would be to get captured by November gloom and doom, we chose instead to look past the clouds to find the bright side. Wintery weather to the north has sent waves of waterfowl down the Mississippi Flyway. Tundra swans, pelicans, and hundreds – no, thousands! – of ducks loafed in the backwaters and out onto the river near Brownsville, Minnesota. The birds will feast on tubers and invertebrates to fuel up for their continued migration down the Mississippi – or, in the case of the swans, to Chesapeake Bay wintering areas.
Back at home, while bringing up another load of firewood from the barn, I heard the cheery chortle of a single bluebird. The distant kuk-kuk-kuk of a saucy pileated woodpecker cut the gray. The goldfinch crowd – no longer cloaked in “gold,” but instead in their seasonal dull-green – returned to squabble over a free meal of sunflower hearts on our deck feeder.
For now, I even tolerated the bossy, freeloading blue jays that also seek out those seeds. They apparently hope that their bright-blue and black and white plummage earns them the privilege of stealing a pricey meal.
We can’t predict when or where, but the cedar waxwings also have started showing up randomly. Perhaps they’re checking periodically to taste-test the fruit from our flowering crab. After a few months, the mini-apples will have fermented enough to make them palatable. If the waxwings gorge themselves too much, they’ll probably end up tipsy.
In the fields and forests and hills and valleys of our Clayton County neighborhood, we’re always on the alert for deer jumping out in front of our vehicles. But we’re doubly cautious in November. Some of the biggest, smartest bucks have learned to be more secretive and nocturnal during the rut, however. We might see them ghost-like only on the trail camera.
While I sometimes brag about how much our south-facing windows reduce our heating bill, it’s hard for the sun to do its job from behind clouds. That’s what our wood stove is for! I must admit that we enjoy the cozy warmth of the fire I lay first thing on a cool, cloudy morning
Thankful for these joys – or irritations? Of course! November makes me appreciate October and December even more!
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As we approach the end of November, it was nice to read your homage to an under appreciated month.
My mother, Luella Reese, had trained as a teacher in Normal Training in high school in the 1930’s. She would quote us this poem from Longfellow, which I think she had slightly adapted:
“November is cold, and dark, and dreary.
It rains, and the wind is never weary.”
But we also appreciated the warmth and love of family during this month.