The Soft Side of November

I carry the sheets, warm from the dryer, up the stairs to the bedroom. Holding one edge of the sheet, and raising my arms high, I let the sheet fly upwards and billow like a cloud before it settles quietly on the bed. November bright sun surges through the window illuminating the African violet on the bookshelf. Crisp shadows, pale coloured flowers against rich green leaves. 
The sight was worth going downstairs for my camera.

Outside, the brilliant leaves of late October and early November are fading into pale shadows of themselves, settling deeper into the earth. Gingko leaves curl into whorls of creamy yellow.

Birds pick off the Hawthorne berries one by one, leaving open spaces among the branches. A few shriveled black berries are perhaps a reminder that the feast won't last indefinitely.

November comes

And November goes

With the last red berries

                             And the first winter snows 

On one hydrangea bush, the leaves and blossoms sing a duet of colour that will soon fade to palest brown. I've never noticed this colour on a leaf before, have you?

With night coming early

And dawn coming late

And ice in the bucket

And frost by the gate

The fires burn

And the kettles sing

And earth sinks to rest

Until next spring.

Elizabeth Coatsworth

Soon all the branches will be bare. Maybe snow will come, maybe not. We're having a mild November so far, with a rainy day or two following by a trio or more of glorious sunshine when there might be a little "ice in the bucket." I can't complain. 

I'd like to wish my American readers a very Happy Thanksgiving. We in Canada celebrated in October, but there's never a season to NOT be thankful, is there? 

Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Angie of Letting Go of the Bay Leaf.