“Oh, Marilla,” she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn’t it? Look at these maple branches. Don’t they give you a thrill—several thrills? I’m going to decorate my room with them.”
Like my darling Anne Shirley, I too adore October. One of the main reasons I moved from California was to experience this amazing season called Autumn that was so elusive in SOCAL. While maple boughs are not readily available in Kansas City, I get a thrill-several thrills, from October itself. I revel in cats and bats, creepy black trees and squawking ravens, costumes and creativity. I love the color the sky becomes at dusk and I even love the wind through my sneezing and wheezing. I love trick or treating, Halloween parades, and haunted amusement parks. I confess, it is with some heartache that I say “Goodbye” to it all and prepare myself for November.
I do not dislike November. In fact, it carries with it nostalgia and beauty of its own. Where October is crisp and bright November glistens in the chill. November freezes kill off all the little buggies that I hate so much and I say “Salud” to my allergies until April. I look forward to Daylight Savings in November because the evenings are long and my children don’t stay out so late in the neighborhood. All our Fall shows have started and the kids fight over what we are watching (Thank you DVR. We love you).
November 1st, though, means that my Halloween décor must come down to prepare for Thanksgiving. My dearest hubby believes, mistakenly, that he will get to use our beautiful dining room table for game nights with the boys. I think it means that I get to practice my table-scapes for the next holiday. After all, he has a table in the basement that I promise not to decorate. I do not, however, make the same declarations over the rest of the basement. If I clean it, I decorate it.
As I take out the many, (and I mean MANY) Halloween boxes, pack away the gothic and creepy, and unload the Thanksgiving boxes, I find the November gift I left for myself last year. It is a set of red and green plates that I got on Black Friday last year at my favorite hobby store. While shopping with my daughter on Black Friday, I know each year that I must go home and begin the next stage in my Season of Celebration. It means that my beloved Autumn is going… and…WINTER IS COMING (gratuitous G.O.T. reference for those that got it). Each year, though, I buy myself a gift on Black Friday that is properly marked to be sold immediately! I wrap it and tuck it away between turkeys and scarecrows in my November box. Inevitably, I forget all about it for the next year and then November 1st comes around again and there it is with a note that says, “Happy November”. I cannot remember what I got, but the joy of something new awaits. In my discovery, I stop looking at what is being put away and what I am saying “goodbye” to, and dream of what I will do next. Like Anne Shirley, I also believe that “one can dream so much better in a room where there are pretty things.”
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