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Why I Love November

Here’s the thing, November. I’ve kind of fallen in love with you.

I love the feeling of being in between seasons you’ve brought. Fall and its glory has dwindled. The leaves -once vibrant and crunchy beneath my feet, have lost their crisp color. The occasional morning frosts have stolen the feeling of fresh autumn and left in its place damp and muted layers burying the dead grass below. I love that we haven’t had our first snow. That the heavy clouds in the blue-gray sky haven’t broken, that the line on the thermometer only flits around freezing. It feels like we are caught in a zone that is neither here, nor there. And I love that. It feels like time is standing still.img_0475img_0472img_0471img_0474img_0473img_0476

I love the evenings that come so soon. I love the process of clicking on lamps as soon as I come home from work. I love watching the flickering candlelight dance on the wall. I love hearing the tea kettle whistle and the breathing in the smell of homemade dinners. I love the chance to snuggle under blankets and crawl into bed at an hour that feels so late but is actually so early.

I love the way this season feels like dusk. The sweetness of our Indian summer has just now faded and the beauty of the holiday season has yet to be opened. I love that everything that has been anticipated and discussed has at last been decided and the reality of our choices has yet to be seen. I love the way we can catch our breath in the aftermath of upheaval and busyness before we are thrust into the bustle and festive frenzy of what comes next. I love turning down the radio, pressing pause on the newsfeed, closing the lid of the computer and letting the breath of a sober quiet November night fill my lungs.

I love how the morning light doesn’t come in the window until my Bible has been opened and my hot coffee sipped. I love that I have a chance to look first at the heart of God before having to face the heat of the day. I love the silence and the stillness that comes by sitting in the dark. Waiting for dawn, waiting for winter.

I love that I shiver when I leave to work in the morning. I love the feeling of a warm thermos in my hands and a cozy scarf around my neck. I love the chance to see my breath float through the air before disappearing. And I love that by noon I can pull of the layers and take the trash out in my barefoot and roll the windows down on my way to school pick-ups. I love that, if I stand in the right place, I can feel the warmth of the sun directly on my face. And I love that when I go home for the evening I am shivering again as I put my coat and scarf and shoes back on. I love that I see my breath again, I love seeing the wisps of my life before it disappears forever.

I love the almost but not yet feeling of Christmas. The slow seeping in of all things merry and bright. The countdown to the celebration, the growing list of gift ideas, the occasional strain of a carol, the wreaths hung here and there, the feeling of merrymaking being so soon, but not yet. The increasing darkness that will make the coming light so much brighter.

Here’s the thing, November. You are a moment in time, a transient moment added to the string of days I call life. And I appreciate the timeless feeling you have granted me. I love the way you have wedged yourself between my definable seasons and made a space for me to stop and notice and give thanks.

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