Farewell to Fair November

When I was a little girl, one of my favorite books was Tasha Tudor's "A Time to Keep." Did you have a copy when you were a wee one? I hope so.

It still fills me with delight and wonder as I flip through the beautiful pages of an old fashioned family, cheerfully celebrating each month of the year. If you don't own it, put it on your Christmas list. It would make a remarkably charming gift, a monthly reminder to live life to the fullest.

I loved each colorful and lively month in the book...except I was disturbed by a poem snippet on the November page, written by Thomas Hood. Since my birthday is in November, I wanted it to be the superlative month, preferrably with a birthday cake lit with candles, floating down the river. (That was on the August page, and my brother Jack still brags that he has the best birthday because of that floating cake illustration.) Here's what the book said about November:

No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, November!

This made young Prudy a bit forlorn and confused. Especially since I grew up in California, the land of eternal fruits, flowers, leaves, and birds. I thought (and still do) that November was the best month of the year. There was the holiday anticipation in the air, the miraculous Thanksgiving feast, and 5 out of the 10 kids in my family had November birthdays.

I felt that Thomas Hood had it all wrong. It wasn't until I was a college student that I read his pessimistic poem in its entirety:

No park--no ring--no afternoon gentility--

No company--no nobility--

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease.

No comfortable feel in any member--

No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,

No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, November!

Now I knew that Thomas Hood got it all wrong! No company??? For Pete's sake, I just said good-bye today to the last of the 40 visitors that came for Thanksgiving.

I prefer this poem about my beloved month instead:

"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

Farewell, fair and favorite month.
Enjoy the last sunset of my favorite month. See you tomorrow with Dark Brown Sugar Caramel Corn.