Visits from the sister* early morning calls from the guy* happy hour with the besties* finding Margaret Atwood books at Goodwill*Dorothy Sayers*a super cool new Mary Poppins hat*homemade pumpkin cheesecake* Margaret Rutherford*dill bread* weather finally cold enough for sweaters, boots and tights* The Brothers Bloom* a clean house* flickering candles* piles of orange leaves* ridiculously cuddly and affectionate pets* fried pickles*Friends dvds*A.S. Byatt*cozy corduroy comforters*thick and fluffy socks* cranberry-colored toenails* my new burgundy hair
I love this time of the year, the tail end of the calendar, for the stories if for no other reason. November is when dark tales are told by flickering fires, when long nights give rise to long dreams and the rational of daily life seems a little less easy to access. A.S. Byatt talks about The November Tales in Possession. Fragile Things, by Neil Gaiman, is, among other things, about spooky stories told in November. I’m always ridiculously busy in November, this year is no exception, but I long to re-read Washington Irving and Nathaniel Hawthorne and Alice Hoffman, and all of the dark and slightly mystical stories I so love, as the wind whistles around the eaves and the leaves pile over the lawn.