We have been close for many years. You have always promised, and delivered, cool nights, crisp and bright days, the sweet smell of earth going to rest. A slower pace, a calm before the storm of the holidays to come. The joy of wearing sweaters and enjoying a cozy afghan. But this year, this year, you turned on me.
All the fruit came ready at once, there were too many long days of canning. Too many work commitments, and a house that was too messy for too many days in a row. I'm sad to say, but I'm thrilled to see you leave. I am jumping right into something new, with great hope.
I have found November, who has promised what you did not deliver. To wear sweaters, enjoy calmer days. To move slower than you, and give me the needed time to catch up on the projects that you did not give me time to complete. We look forward, together, to a month ending with a pantry full of good food, and a renewed spirit to feed and cloth my family from the great things in my home. Yes, for November I have high hopes. There is a vacancy for the role of my favorite month, October, and you will be missed. May we meet on better terms next year.
The tired homesteader who needs a gentle month that is generous and kind.