I am in my office this morning. A part of me would rather have headed back to bed , covered up and slept the morning away. I do feel weary. A good weary though. Weary with well doing. Maybe. I have been doing. Yesterday the day was spent in my pantry . Baked beans, Brown bread rolls and a large pot of aromatic, thick and deep yellow mustard pickles. Nine people sat at our table and enjoyed a Sunday supper meal while the November sky darkened early and the rain fell and the wind blew outside. The leaves have pretty much all fallen to the ground. On yesterday’s wood road walk a thick and colorful cover was the path beneath my feet. I felt the cooler air and the feel of November. I love the familiar feel of November. Thirty years ago I was awaiting the birth of my fourth child. November always brings the sadness and poignancy of Remembrance Day , a day of importance in a family with military connection and service. I feel the promise of first snow and deepening cold. I feel the comfort of wood heat and comfort food. I feel the tug of Christmas. Meg , Cody and the girls will move in with us for the month of December and I have told the girls we will begin trimming for Christmas on December first. What a different and wonderful December this will be. In my weariness I must remind myself to be truly thankful for the extra mouths I get to feed. A season of our lives to be savored and enjoyed . This morning I told Burton how weary I was and that I would like to go back in time. First I said 1985, than 1971, and then 1963. 1985, a new baby , 1971, Grade nine,1963 assassination of JFK. Each November ,each year and season brought challenges, difficulties, joys and sorrows of it’s own. Weariness and wonder. Another year, another November, another stage and chapter in my life.
