November is the most unpretentious month. The pageantry of October has come and gone; the Bacchanalia of December is yet to come. November just is. If November were a person, he’d wear faded blue overalls, a flannel shirt, scuffed up boots, and a cap with ear flaps pulled over peppery hair. He wouldn’t talk much, but his eyes would say a lot.
It is the month of long shadows. The trees become bare and their branches make lattice work against sunsets we now notice coming earlier and earlier. Leaves are brown. They loaf about the ground or huddle against the boles of trees or curl up in bushes. The sky is gray with formless clouds or possibly a reticent blue, as though not wanting to draw attention to itself. Sometime this month, we’ll awake to find the grass (that, thank goodness, no longer needs to be mowed) flecked with frost. Gardens are fallow; the air is no longer brisk, just cool. A few ducks linger and squirrels are trying to find places to hide their winter stash. Even the birds don’t seem to chirp much. It is a good time for walks in the woods, which have now become quiet.
It’s a slow month, and Nature herself seems to sigh. The excitement of the new school year (if there ever was excitement) is over. You know, or should know, what to do, where to go, what you can get away with and what you can’t. Sports are in a lull. You don’t think about much. There is a quiet rhythm and comfort to the days—and I like it.
November is a month of memories. It’s the end of the Church year, and it starts with two days dedicated to remembering. The first of November is All Saints’ Day, when we pay homage to those who have fought the good fight and have won the crown whether they be as glorious as Our Lady or as humble as St. Giles. Many, such as Remigius and Thecla, Dorothy and Hedwig, are, unfortunately, no longer on the Church calendar; but they are still saints, and I wonder, now that they are no longer officially remembered and have time on their hands, if they aren’t aching to help us. We should still seek their aid. The second of November is All Souls’ Day, when we remember those, many as relatives and friends, who, we hope, are in Heaven or at least on the way there. The only good work they can do now is pray for us, and they want to do so. We should talk to them and ask for their help and give them help in return with our prayers.
I once heard that the best times to go on retreat are early spring or late fall. You see the world changing, which makes you think how your life is changing and should change. These days remind us that life is not, as MacBeth would have it, “a walking shadow,” but, on the contrary, a pilgrimage with a purpose. What is that purpose? Where are you headed? Somber but possibly salutary reflections are fitting for this meditative month.
Jane Austen’s last completed novel was Persuasion, and it is often called “autumnal” because much of it takes place during this time of year. The main character, Anne Elliot, is the oldest of Austen’s heroines and is called “past her bloom” by others in the book. She herself wonders if life has passed her by. But it is a novel of second chances which life does give us if only we have the courage, as Anne does, to take them. November is a good time to read it.
What else is this month good for? Oh, I don’t know; perhaps a bonfire and sitting with friends and something toasty to drink. You can stare at the stars which, for some reason, seem to come alive more this time of year. It’s also a good time for a “clear out.” You won’t be using much this month, so you don’t have the excuse of keeping it because “I’m going to use it soon.” Go through the shed, the basement, the attic, the closets, the cabinets, the drawers. How much of that stuff have you used in the past year? What needs to be repaired or tossed out? It can be the last time for a good cleaning because when the cold temperatures come, you won’t want to clean the windows or doorways or garage, so get it done now. That does two things. First, it staves off the grimy feeling that comes in February or March when dirt and dust from the last five months has accumulated beyond bearing. Second, it prepares for the celebrations of Thanksgiving and Christmas that are to come when friends and family come over and you panic because you really do need to clean. November is a sparse month, and paring down and cleaning your house fits the season. It mentally winds down your year.
And that brings me to Thanksgiving, November’s only official bright spot. It is good to have a designated day for something we should be doing every day. If celebrated right (not stuck in airports or in front of a screen watching games), it’s a day to spend with the three Fs: family, friends, and food. The best part comes at that time which typifies all of November, the post-prandial afterglow; the moments (or hours) after the meal with an extra glass of wine reminiscing. “Do you remember when …?” “What about the time …?” “I’ll never forget …” Our culture is fixated on the future, but what makes life worth living, really, are the memories. And we shouldn’t forget those who may not have others to share this time with. Single friends or the elderly couple with no family near them who would spend this time alone if we didn’t think of them and invite them over. These people, too, have memories and would like to share them or share yours with you. Invite them over. They—and you—will be grateful.
There is one last thing you can do to enjoy this quiet, reflective month. Cherish silence. By now the airwaves are full of Christmas ads. Turn them off. Turn off your radio in the car. Spend time in quiet each morning before you go out and at night before you go to bed. The chaos and noise will begin soon enough, and you will thirst for a few moments of silence. Get it now while you can. Appreciate November. It doesn’t ask much, but it can give a lot.