Making the most of November

My life has changed so much over the past half year. Taking care of a little person brings very different concerns. For instance, I'm almost constantly aware of what kind of experience he's having when he's with me in my house, what atmosphere I'm creating, what he's learning from the way I talk and behave.

So I was thinking about this time of the year, when the days are short and frequently gloomy, and the nights are long. Darkness has a quality of possibility. Nothing is cut and dried or sharply clear. I tend not to put on lights until I really need to see what I'm doing, say in the kitchen for example. This is part of the experience of winter. If I light a candle, the yellow glow is soft and tender, looked at with wonder and delight by the little person. And for me, staying with the darkness, experiencing it as fully as I can, means I start to anticipate, and hopefully will truly participate, in the soon-to-be time when the solstice comes and the light begins to increase.

pet names

We have many dogs around our new neighbourhood. It strikes me that mostly, today, people give their pets human names. I mean, when did you last meat a dog called Rover, or Tray, the traditional type of canine names?

In our family we tend towards food names for our pets. We had a cat called 'Mealie' which is the South African term for corn. And a border collie named Guava after the exotic fruit -- and a wonderful dog she was too. She first belonged to our daughter when she was at university. Then our son took her over. When he left the country, we had her at home and when we left the country, my parents were her proud and happy owners.

But still, I wonder what that tendency says about our family??

Our son's girlfriend has two dogs, named Brownie and Brie. Somehow that tells me she's already part of us.

Rolling over

So we had Halloween, and now Christmas lights are up. A neighbour of mine already has a merry Santa waving from his rooftop. Last Sunday was Rememberance Day, Armistice Day as it was referred to when I was a child. The 11th November was also my late and only brother's birthday.

November is a time when I remember my loved ones who have departed this life, when they feel closest to me.

Halloween actually marks the threshold, and in the Christian calendar of the year it's followed by All Souls Day. Preparation for Advent and the Christmas season only begins on 'Stir-up' Sunday, which is when, traditionally, puddings and cakes are baked. The name came from the collect for the Sunday before Advent which began 'Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people; that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works, may of thee be plenteously rewarded; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I managed to do the baking on Stir-up Sunday once.

But if we roll straight over into Christmas without these November days to contemplate the meaning of life while we remember the dead, surely we're missing something?

Burnt water

I don't drink alcohol, have never smoked and don't do other funny stuff -- unless you classify taking natural and homeopathic medicines as such. But I am addicted, because, as the old song goes, 'I love coffee, I love tea'. To pursue this byway for a second, when in England I visit a funky coffeeshop called Java and Jive.

But I digress.

Tea is cosy. Tea is comforting. This morning I was making my early cuppa. As the water was churning in the kettle, I thought of all the instructions for good tea-making that say 'pour on freshly boiling water'. This always seemed obvious to me, but I'm waking up to how important it is for my enjoyment. As can happen, drinking awful cups of tea brought realization and appreciation. I mean, have you ever had a good cup of tea in hospital? Just when you'd really appreciate it, you get something that tastes like soggy dishrags. Ditto in general on airplane flights.

The reason institution tea is so awful has to do with what my son calls burnt water. Those large urns are filled and refilled and the water goes on boiling and boiling until it's dead. You could use the best quality tea and it would still taste terrible. So, if you want an 'ahhhh' cup of tea to drink, those old instructions are worth following. Be sure to fill the kettle with newly drawn water, though. Enjoy!

Moon in the morning

This morning I opened my curtain and saw a beautiful sight -- the cradle moon, a little creamy and directly above it, Venus twinkling as brightly as any aircraft headlights. The sky itself had just lightened the perfect amount so that the darkness had turned translucent, a perfect Prussian blue setting for the two jewels of the sky.

When I fly at night I always make sure to lift the window screen from time to time to check out what's going on in the heavens. I mean, how incredible is it that we can be up there, above the earth? One time during the day I was on a flight east. Next to me sat a little boy of five. He looked out over me at the bumpy spread of white below and said in a hushed tone, 'See the angels dancing on the clouds.'

Airborne

How does it feel to a goose? Have you ever wondered?

Yeah, yeah, I can frequently do stuff, think and behave like one in my 'duh' moments. But I'm imagining something more airborne. At migration time, it's somehow both a touching and an inspiring sight to see those skeins of large birds flying in formation, the pattern and thread of their journeying transforming as they go, but always with an order to it.

So you give yourself to the rush and the momentum. Like being one dancing unit in a corps de ballet, you keep exactly the right distance away from the person in front of you, the person behind, sensing it all, and together you form a dynamic, a line of beauty and purpose.

Doesn't that feel good?

Changing perspective

Early in the morning, I indulge in listening to a little classical music. When Tom Allen announced the next piece would be something from Bach, I thought 'Yeay!'. And then I remembered the time, only a decade or two ago, when I really wasn't much into Bach. In fact, ever since childhood I've been a romantic, with all that means philosophically, intellectually and emotionally, not to mention musically.

Now in my latter years I seem to be more open to the classical.

Thinking back, I also remembered foods I disliked as a girl that I now eat with relish. For instance, avocadoes and green beans, I love. Liquids like gravy (!), and cream -- yummy. Liver -- um, strike that. I still eat it with 'long teeth' as the Afrikaans idiom has it, and no longer cook it at home. My dear husband has to order it when we do Italian.

I'm happy to know change is always possible and we can be open to worthwhile aspects of life we couldn't access before.

Is it all about the candy?

In the end, I don't think so. Maybe part of the Halloween appeal is the opportunity to get creative, thinking up scary ways to decorate the front entrance, imagining what disguises to wear. And that has to be quite a large factor in the mystique... what persona to put on?

Confession time... I managed to dress up just a little bit, although Adrian Steed, the character I was emulating, wouldn't have meant much to the trick or treaters coming to the door. But it was all fun, and the vibe on the street, positively electric!

All I have to do now is work on coming to terms with the negative. I'll try to remember how it was last night so that I can get into the spirit of All Hallows E'en next year.