November, December

We had a hard rain last night and a good number of the leaves on the Japanese maple out front of the living room fell to the ground. When the skies had cleared enough to walk out without getting soaking wet, I noticed the leaves covering the ground beneath the tree. Absolutely beautiful. The whole are under the tree was a bright crimson color. The pattern of the leaves on the ground was artistic.

I like this time of year. The cold. The rain. The grey skies. The pine needles covering the ground. I remember walking through the woods in our neighborhood and kicking the pine needles and smelling the trees under the grey skies. It was a nice little trip in the late November world. Everything was grey and brown, and reminded me of the pilgrims at Thanksgiving. All brown and black and grey. It would transport you quickly to first grade when you were drawing the pilgrims and making turkeys with your hand and a fistful of crayons.

Of course, once Thanksgiving has come and gone, you go into the colorful time of Christmas, with everything red and green and gold and silver and every other color imaginable. The old colored Christmas tree bulbs, with silver tinsel everywhere and packages of every color. Birthdays and cakes and pies and Christmas Day.

As I got older, the real treat was Christmas morning, and breakfast with Polish sausage and country ham and grits, slathered with butter, and orange juice and tea and biscuits with jelly. It makes me hungry right now.

We are on the verge.