I just knew it!!  I closed my eyes for a few minutes and suddenly, it’s mitten weather although we have a brief few hours of warmth today before a cold front comes through!    We’ve finally had several black frosts and I hope all the mosquitoes have turned into little entomologic ice cubes!  There was snow last Sunday evening as we drove home from Pennsylvania; not unexpected, but unwelcome!  An upside of this late fall season is that mornings are now made cheerier and warmer with a wood fire, to take the chill from the living room.  Back when I was rushing around to make it to work by 9 AM, I visualized peaceful mornings.  Even after 18 years of retirement, I’ve not lost my delight in the reality; the wood fire makes it even better.   Warmth at this time of the year is a wonderful thing --- both inside and outside the house.  A nippy morning outside brings rosy cheeks and ease in walking; no more struggles with hot and humid!  Going back inside to comfort and light is equally as fine.

Books are part of our lives every day, all year, but when chilly weather comes, it’s nice to have some new possibilities and a stack of good-to-read-again ones, for days when staying inside is a sensible choice.  There is always new fiction coming out, and while some of it is quite fine, some only adds to the despair for the world.  We need to choose our reading wisely; not just dumping any old thing into our minds.   (This might also apply to TV “news” programs!) I enjoy non-fiction too; daily accounts of living, gardening, the occasional autobiography or a naturalist’s journeys. I saw a T-shirt recently that said: “A truly good book should be read in youth, again in maturity, and once more in old age.”*  I must admit to reading some even more often; like again and again.  It’s called escape literature, and the stories bring me to places I like to visit or they give me comfort.   With JRR Tolkien I can be in a forest of elves, faeries and Hobbits.  With C.S. Lewis I can hear the animals speak with great wisdom and normal people show daily courage that changes their world, or, in his science fiction, a whole new concept of the universe.  His non-fiction is nutritious theology and helpful sharing of personal struggles.  With David Eddings, I can be doing good and defeating evil, with a bit of teleporting and telekinesis thrown in.   Cathy Johnson and Hal Borland take me out into the fields and forests to observe the wonders of our natural world.   Gladys Taber’s writing is homey as she recalls how it was to live in the 1950s.  Alexandra Stoddard reminds me to be creative and aware of the beauty in our homes and in the people around us.  Alexander McCall Smith takes me to the wonderful country of Botswana and introduces the equally wonderful Precious Ramatsie, Number One Lady Detective.  Joyce Rupp speaks to my spiritual life with clarity and understanding.  And there are more ---- so many more.

In addition to books, I like cleaning out the recipe drawer.  I re-find all sorts of ideas even as I toss clippings that I will never find the time or energy to attempt.   Traditional bouillabaisse would be one of those.  And probably the Spanish Wind Torte.  Kerm recently commented that he had heard several women chatting about reading cook books for fun.  He expressed his astonishment that anyone could find that at all interesting.  But it is!  It is fun to determine which recipes will do well on our own tables.  And if the cookbook has narrative along with recipes, detailing bits of the author’s background and daily life, then it is a personal culinary history.  This latter is what I’ve been trying to put together for family.  I have a folder-full, but am having trouble organizing the narratives.  Pat Conroy says: “a recipe is a story that ends with a good meal.”**  So ---- that’s why we read cookbooks.  In the spirit of down-sizing, I’ve diminished my stash, but there are quite a few really cool ones still on my shelves.  I’ve heard the same thing from friends; we cherish our recipes.

In my reminiscing, I often go home to visit with my mother; we’d sit at the round kitchen table with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies --- probably molasses.  There was a wide window that looked out on a well-stocked bird feeder – usually with chickadees and a cardinal looking back through the window, and further away, a flower garden, and several yards down further, a pond.  We talked, shared recipes, spoke of family and the latest in world news.  The first two, most interesting to us, were discussions at some length.  The last, just a few comments.   My mother was fairly open-minded but she also had some very definite opinions on world events, and was quite articulate in expressing them.  We had more interest in speaking of what our extended families were doing, ancestral stories and how things were in the gardens and in our inner lives.

Because things are in such sad shape around the world, and specifically in our own country, conversations with friends often seem to buzz endlessly around our discontent.  I would suggest that there are other things to talk about that would create good memories in later years which is why I remember with pleasure, conversations with my mother.  Way more than the latest clueless politician’s misbehavior, I like knowing what my eldest granddaughter is thinking about her future and what she is doing now.  I enjoy learning that my youngest granddaughter really enjoys acting.  She can be someone else with ease.  As I listen to them, I think we can have hope for the future of the world because of our young people.  They will step up when needed.

It is also nourishing to sit with friends and reminisce about good times we’ve had, about some of the anxieties around aging that we experience in common and ponder, do we have the energy for preparing one more concert or variety show?  Being part of a comfortable, secure group, whether it is family, friends or a study group, allows us to be who we are, and gives us opportunity to share that same gift with others.  A few really good and trustable friends are a priceless gift not to be treated carelessly.

We returned recently from a short weekend away that we had planned for October, cancelled then because of my venture into bronchitis and COVID.  A trip to our former home in Pennsylvania is always a welcome journey no matter what time of year.  Though we have visited every year or so, we have been gone from daily life there for 45 years.  I find it amazing to see how quickly we can pick up conversations with people we haven’t seen in quite a while.  With kindred spirits, the connecting bond stays strong.  We attended our former church where, back in the 1970s, Kerm and I both taught Sunday school, and where I sang in the choir.  We sampled some nice restaurants and stopped at the Country Cupboard--- in the Garden and Christmas shops.  We drove around the county admiring the foliage, the beautiful farms in an area we once knew well.  And best, we just enjoyed being with friends and catching up on their lives.  We shared laughter, memories of good times and what we are all doing now to keep our days interesting.  We must do this more often for when we see friends there, we suddenly realize how very much we miss them.  It was a super weekend, and the drive down on Rt. 220 was lovely too; many of the leaves have fallen but lots of color remained.  We could have done without the rain mixed with snow that greeted us just below the NYS border on our way back, though!

More leaves will fall as November moves on toward winter.   I try to be outside as much as possible, to make up for all the days when it will be too cold or snowy.  We enjoy sitting out on mild days and don’t put the lawn chairs into storage until the heavy snow falls.  I have a sturdy walking stick for stability on our hilly yard.  There are still wonderful things to see if one looks closely; empty nests in small trees, small tracks of our under-the-shed possum, the flash of a cardinal in the spruce trees.  And I’ve put my Happy Light where it’s easy to use every morning.  It fools my brain into thinking the sun is shining and all is well.  As November merges into winter days, I like this poem by Dixie Willson.***

“I like the fall, the mist and all, I like the night owl’s lonely call ---and wailing sound of wind around.  I like the gray November day and bare, dead boughs that wildly sway against my pane.  I like the rain.  I like to sit and laugh at it --- and tend my cozy fire a bit.  I like the fall ---- the mist and all.”

Thanksgiving is only a week away.   It will be a little chaotic around here with three dogs and eight people.  But it will be a time of good fellowship and fun stories as well as dogs in any convenient laps.  I wish that your Thanksgiving will also be a time of gratitude and hope for good days ahead, and that you will find it a celebration of blessings.  And wear your mittens!!

*Robertson Davies ---- Cnandian novelist, essayist, journalist and critic.  1913-1995.

**Pat Conroy ----American author who wrote several acclaimed novels and memoirs.  1945-2016.

***Dixie Willson ---- from poem, The Mist and All.  American screenwriter as well as poet and author of children’s books.  Meredith Willson was her brother.  1890-1974.