In November, the smell of food is different. It is an orange smell, a squash and pumpkin smell. It tastes like cinnamon and can fill up a house in the morning, and can pull everyone from bed in a fog. Food is better in November than any other time of the year.
In November, the earth is growing quiet. It is making its bed, a winter bed for flowers and small creatures. The bed is white and silent, and much life can hide beneath its blankets.
In November, some birds move away and some birds stay. The air is full of good-byes and well-wishes. The birds who are leaving look very serious. No silly spring chirping now. They have long journeys and must watch where they are going. The staying birds are serious, too, for cold times lie ahead. Hard times. All berries will be treasures.
In November, the trees are standing all sticks and bones. Without their leaves, how lovely they are, spreading their arms like dancers. They know it is time to be still.
In November, people are good to each other. They travel very far on a special November day just to share a meal with one another and to give thanks for their many blessings.
