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Island Life, Home, Books, beauty
Island Life, Home, Books, beauty Sunday
05Nov
November - just the beginning.
Sunday, November 5, 2006 at 04:57PM
Two of my favourite authors were born in the month of November - Louisa May Alcott on the 29th and L.M. Montgomery on the 30th.
It seems like neither one of them liked their birthday month...
"November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year," said Margaret, standing at the window one dull afternoon, looking out at the frostbitten garden. "That's the reason I was born in it," observed Jo pensively, quite unconscious of the blot on her nose..."
Little Women
"In November I sometimes feel as if spring could never come again," Anne sighed, grieving over the hopeless unsightliness of her frosted and bedraggled flower-plots..."
Anne's House of Dreams
I'd rather not look at my frost blackened flowers and wind-blown husk of a garden in November. The world outside is a little too bare. It won't be long though, before it's covered with a blanket of soft, white snow.
This is the beginning of the cozy season - tea-kettle singing, soup pot simmering and long evenings reading by the fire...
November comes
And November goes,
With the last red berries
And the first white snows.
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.
- Clyde Watson
It seems like neither one of them liked their birthday month...
"November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year," said Margaret, standing at the window one dull afternoon, looking out at the frostbitten garden. "That's the reason I was born in it," observed Jo pensively, quite unconscious of the blot on her nose..."
Little Women
"In November I sometimes feel as if spring could never come again," Anne sighed, grieving over the hopeless unsightliness of her frosted and bedraggled flower-plots..."
Anne's House of Dreams
I'd rather not look at my frost blackened flowers and wind-blown husk of a garden in November. The world outside is a little too bare. It won't be long though, before it's covered with a blanket of soft, white snow.
This is the beginning of the cozy season - tea-kettle singing, soup pot simmering and long evenings reading by the fire...
November comes
And November goes,
With the last red berries
And the first white snows.
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.
- Clyde Watson
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Reader Comments (13)
Living in the South has redeemed November for me. I love the crisp, fall days and the anticipation of Thanksgiving -- a time to be thankful for all around me, even November.
Glad to share November birthdays with two of my favorite authors, too!! Thanks for the great poem at the end of your post.
LM Alcott were born in the same month, with only one day separating their birthdate and they both have the same first initials....how cool is that! I learned something new today!
We have had our snowfalls already but this week promises to be milder, and yesterday was a glorious day spent outdoors doing yard work and the like. The trees have shed their leaves here so we had two trailer loads of leaves to rake up and get rid of.
Lovely poem and picture! (so cosy)
But hey - what happened to the sweet Rinda post? It showed up in Bloglines but not here? Oh well, I enjoyed it very much.
I like the idea of thinking of November as going to sleep...instead of the death of summer.
It's a time for rest.
Much nicer image.
Have you read MARCH by Gwendolyn Brooks? It is about the "little women's" dad and his civil war experience.
Happy weekend.
Susan