I really love this time of year and the weather was beyond glorious last week. Everyone I talked to, friends and strangers alike, kept remarking how lovely the days were, how unlike our typical "gray" November it was. Some people were walking around in flip-flops. From my office window (above) I gazed out and realized I hadn't taken any pictures of the fall color in the yard, and that this might be the last opportunity to capture some of the drama.
The sunny side of existence truly feeds the soul. We sit on the porch and literally sigh over opal sunsets at the end of the day, and rest in the peace of the silent hills. These are the quiet moments you wish could last beyond their time. All the more precious because they are fleeting.
For perspective though, there's always a counterpoint it seems. About midweek, a baby squirrel took up residence somewhere under the mudroom floor, keeping us awake all night as it gnawed and scrambled up and down the inside of one wall. Next morning, Grace found a likely entrance off the back porch, and put a stone over it when she thought the wayward critter had gone out to forage. An hour later or so, the squirrel appeared at her bedroom window--for what seemed like a 'complaint to the management'. So far, no more disturbances or sign of our dear little friend.
But Hobo spiders. Now there's a force to be reckoned with. They seem to be harbingers of cold weather, suddenly appearing within my safe haven when I least expect it. No one can stand to squash them because of their alarming size. The fear is always, that they will spring back up and lunge at you. Which they often do. So we usually howl and scream for backup, and the man of the house, our "hero", comes to the rescue. If he's not around, we usually just throw a shoe and huddle pitifully.
(Oh 'spirea' I love you in the fall.) This little ditty seems meant for you:
For me, November is a nostalgic month. A time of reflection over the passing year. And a time for soup! (Anything with heavy cream will do nicely thank you.)
Before I knew it, the path lead back to my little window to the world. Where I am at this very moment looking out again. At rain this time.