November should be a slow month. The month in between. Yes I know there’s a bit of a celebration at the end for some countries, but here it can sometimes be - kind of in the way of the next big thing.
I’ve always liked this time, though - this pause between. The month of remembrance and birthdays (James’s and mine), before the real countdown starts. I think this may be a legacy from childhood, when I counted on the anticipated birthday postal orders to kick start my Christmas shopping in December.
But this year it’s seemed non stop. With family, school and community commitments, a couple of bouts of winter bugs in the house, keeping the home running and fitting in everything else, I have felt really conscious of being on my own - constantly on call.
It’s just that time of the year, I guess. The daylight is considerably shorter these days and so there’s much more to pack in before its time to light the fire and draw the curtains for the night. This week we have been enjoying some beautiful weather - still and calm, with that impossibly clear light that we get here. The days of pink skies, as we merge seamlessly from sunrise to sunset. I love to watch that play out on my horizon. The slow but inevitable movement of the sun along the edge of the world has always fascinated me, and taking a few moments to notice at each end of the day fills me with wonder. When I wake up, with another full list of tasks, or before fixing the evening meal, with so many jobs left undone, its good to stand for a minute or so and watch the world turn. It keeps me grounded.
I’m running a series on my Instagram stories, - the view from my back deck at 8 am. Already the sunrise is later than this, but I’m hoping to observe the subtle changes in the light as the weeks go on. You are welcome to join me every morning and see what the view is like today.