Bracing for November

There’s an old French saying: Pas de soleil, pas d’esprit. (Everything sounds pretty in French.) It translates – no sunshine, no spirit. To that I would add, No–vember.

Another spectacular fall day unfolds outside my window. Fluffy white clouds float through a cerulean sky like sailing ships on the Caribbean. Magnificently coloured leaves rustle in the warm breeze. The temperature feels more like July than October. So far, our part of Ontario has enjoyed an amazing autumn. Things are about to change. Guaranteed. November is only a calendar page away.

A month from now the brilliant trees will be charcoal sticks standing against a slate horizon. The clouds will look more like pewter than cotton puffs. Empty fields will absorb whatever scarce sunshine there is and the breeze will carry a distinct bite. Daylight hours will diminish until we’re eating breakfast and supper with the lights on. The first snowfall will bring a tentative brightness to the darkest corners of the house.

Changing seasons

I think of October’s colourful display as God’s bedtime story to us before the big sleep of winter. November, then, is like Nah-nah Land – that delightful state of stupor just before loss of consciousness. The woods between the worlds of wakefulness and rest. Dreary as it may seem, it has a unique ambiance – sights, scents and sounds all its own. It serves a great and glorious purpose in God’s economy.

These days more than ever I’m aware of the providentially changing seasons – not only on the calendar, but in life itself. Next week Jack and I celebrate our 47th wedding anniversary. I remember when that was for “old people.” We’re watching our children raise their children. Our grandchildren are morphing into young adults, beginning to make plans for their own lives. Just yesterday they were in diapers.

In my imagination I’m still a young woman, able to take on the world. However, my body reminds me that my days of leaping over tall buildings in a single bound are long gone. November is approaching. Is it closer than I realize? It’s a sobering thought, considering what comes after that. Still, every season holds an undeniable beauty.

I don’t accomplish as much as I used to in a day. But I no longer feel the pressure to push myself into the evening hours trying to get things “done.” (They never really are, you know.) Wisdom (and fatigue) dictate 8:00 pm as time to curl up with a good book and maybe a glass of wine. I launch gently into each new day. My mornings include quiet time, fresh coffee, devotions and breakfast with Jack. Life is sweet.

Quiet fields

Norton and I stroll down to the woods at the back of the farm. The path is flanked on either side by the fields that yielded a good harvest of soybeans this year. They appear spent. Empty of all but dirt and stubble. In actual fact, winter wheat seed lies just below the soil’s surface. Lord willing, with the rain in the forecast and a little sunshine to follow, a whole new crop will grace the land, just as November arrives. A cheerful reminder of what’s to come next spring.

Forget what I said about No-vember. Make it your mission to find joy, whatever season you’re in. It’s there – maybe just below the surface.