If I absolutely had to choose, I'd say that Autumn is my favorite season. The breathtaking foliage, the bounty of harvest, the pumpkins and gourds and happy sunflowers. But even past those glowing copper days, I love November, too. Often cold, stormy and dismal, I cherish the coziness it brings. We focus more on indoor activities, light candles, keep a blanket on the sofa, and appreciate the warmth of a fire. Meals consist of soups, stews, hearty casseroles; things I make early in the day, their savory scent perfuming the house for hours. The pace of life slows a bit. There is Thanksgiving to look forward to, the planning and preparing of the feast, arguably the best holiday of the year.
The clocks changed last night, so mornings will be bright earlier. New England nights stretch long, though. Chris will come home in the dark from now until spring. I woke this Sunday morning to the view I see most every morning...the two small windows on the west wall of our bedroom, framed with old-fashioned white ball fringe curtains. To welcome November this day the sky was pewter, making the scene before my eyes a small panorama of shades of gray as the muted light reflected off the glass, the curtains, the walls. A fitting start to the month. I could hear rain pattering on the sill, and the air was cold on my face. Under the quilts I was warm. Another thing to love about this time of year, the joy of being snug under a mound of covers in a chilly room.
Downstairs the woodstove glowed with embers from last nights fire. I added a few logs and opened the damper. In seconds flames were springing brightly behind the glass. Stepping outside with the dogs I realized the falling rain was freezing as it hit the ground. I walked carefully, plotting the best direction to fall if my feet became victims to the ice.
When they heard me, the donkeys began to bray, pleading for breakfast. I complied, bringing an armful of fragrant hay to the pasture and distributing piles. The goats danced out of their cozy, tossing their heads in the brisk air, and running to see if my pockets held treats.
The animals had visitors yesterday. A woman messaged me through my business and said that her 4 year old daughter is wild over our donkeys, insisting her parents stop the car each time they pass, was there a way she could meet them? They arrived just after I finished work, the little girl vibrating with excitement. Fearless, she pushed through the metal gate, into the herd of waiting animals. Her parents had brought carrots and apples and the goats and donkeys crowded around, cadging treats. "Do you want to sit on a donkey?" I asked. She nodded her head up and down. "This one," I said, patting Abrahams broad, dusty back. He stood rock still while her mother booster her up. Her little hands explored his fuzzy winter coat, she leaned forward to stroke his long ears. Giggles fractured the afternoon air. Abraham took one step, then two, gingerly. More giggles and a shriek of glee. When she dismounted she spent long minutes going from animal to animal, hugging them tightly. Only Bliss objected, staying several steps away. The other animals became still and calm while the wee guest showered them with affection.
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