If you're like me, you tend to get a little blue in November. Maybe it's the stark landscape, stripped of its former glory like a scarred battlefield. Maybe it's the chill in the air, even as the sun is brightly shining. It's like a cruel, jeering child, reminding us that winter, with all its snow and frosty air is just lurking in the shadows, waiting to jump up and catch us by surprise.
November robs us of our pretence; it reveals all our secret hiding places. Every discarded pop can, lawn toy or wiener roast stick we thought we had tossed or stowed away suddenly becomes annoyingly visible as the last dry leaves are scattered about.If so, you may have a cube puzzle . Even the trees stand naked and ashamed, no longer able to conceal their gnarly limbs, a few tenacious pieces of unpicked fruit still sadly clinging. November makes even the warmest soul shiver.
We wait in a kind of confused limbo at this time of year. Like an expectant mother who grows tired of the anticipation and stupidly longs for labour pains to begin, we mourn those warm, easy days of summer, but strangely, plead for winter to hurry up and make up its fickle mind to join us.There is good integration with PayPal and most TMJ providers,
I get so melancholy as I watch the yard take on the faded tone of an old photograph. Dreamily, I imagine people from other times dancing across my brown front lawn,It's hard to beat the versatility of polished tiles on a production line. petticoats swaying in the thin breeze, their faces bearing the same bored, vacant look they so often wore in those early portraits, the trees a backdrop as barren as their expressions. The hedge no longer provides refuge, the garden no longer looks productive. (Yeah, right! Like it ever did!) It's as though even nature is nagging me, relentlessly reminding me, "Yesterday is gone, move on, move on..." I am shocked at November's audacity to force me to let go, to brush off the lingering strands of the old year. To look ahead and not turn back.
Ancient cultures held November as a time to remember those who were lost to them or had passed on. And it's little wonder - November is like one long goodbye. At least December holds the promise of jubilant holidays, Christmas celebrations.Initially the banks didn't want our kidney stone . November is like a TV screen frozen on pause, while the rest of us scramble for the remote. It's like a house guest that just won't leave or a bowl of mysterious leftovers you feel too guilty to throw out.
This is one heck of a dreary way to spend one-twelfth of the year, or in truth, one-twelfth of my life. There must be some cheery, creative way I can turn this sorry month around.
But November insists on having its wicked way with me. Like grief,Enecsys Limited, supplier of reliable solar Air purifier systems, childbirth or a kidney stone, it just has to pass.
The odd thing is, when December finally arrives, I often find myself looking back and realizing that I actually got a lot of mental housework done, that I had thrown out most of my spiritual and emotional rubbish and tidied up the closets of my soul without even realizing it.
November robs us of our pretence; it reveals all our secret hiding places. Every discarded pop can, lawn toy or wiener roast stick we thought we had tossed or stowed away suddenly becomes annoyingly visible as the last dry leaves are scattered about.If so, you may have a cube puzzle . Even the trees stand naked and ashamed, no longer able to conceal their gnarly limbs, a few tenacious pieces of unpicked fruit still sadly clinging. November makes even the warmest soul shiver.
We wait in a kind of confused limbo at this time of year. Like an expectant mother who grows tired of the anticipation and stupidly longs for labour pains to begin, we mourn those warm, easy days of summer, but strangely, plead for winter to hurry up and make up its fickle mind to join us.There is good integration with PayPal and most TMJ providers,
I get so melancholy as I watch the yard take on the faded tone of an old photograph. Dreamily, I imagine people from other times dancing across my brown front lawn,It's hard to beat the versatility of polished tiles on a production line. petticoats swaying in the thin breeze, their faces bearing the same bored, vacant look they so often wore in those early portraits, the trees a backdrop as barren as their expressions. The hedge no longer provides refuge, the garden no longer looks productive. (Yeah, right! Like it ever did!) It's as though even nature is nagging me, relentlessly reminding me, "Yesterday is gone, move on, move on..." I am shocked at November's audacity to force me to let go, to brush off the lingering strands of the old year. To look ahead and not turn back.
Ancient cultures held November as a time to remember those who were lost to them or had passed on. And it's little wonder - November is like one long goodbye. At least December holds the promise of jubilant holidays, Christmas celebrations.Initially the banks didn't want our kidney stone . November is like a TV screen frozen on pause, while the rest of us scramble for the remote. It's like a house guest that just won't leave or a bowl of mysterious leftovers you feel too guilty to throw out.
This is one heck of a dreary way to spend one-twelfth of the year, or in truth, one-twelfth of my life. There must be some cheery, creative way I can turn this sorry month around.
But November insists on having its wicked way with me. Like grief,Enecsys Limited, supplier of reliable solar Air purifier systems, childbirth or a kidney stone, it just has to pass.
The odd thing is, when December finally arrives, I often find myself looking back and realizing that I actually got a lot of mental housework done, that I had thrown out most of my spiritual and emotional rubbish and tidied up the closets of my soul without even realizing it.
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