By: Jennifer Richardson Holt
How on earth is it November already? This truly seems impossible to me, as I am still getting the hang of writing a six instead of a 5 at the end of the year, so I cannot possibly be nearing the task of changing to a seven. While I am a bit astonished that we are beginning the eleventh month of the year, if I am honest, I’m actually fine with it. Other than the fact that the month means I am that much closer to being a year older—which isn’t inherently thrilling, though I suppose it is when you consider the alternative—I rather enjoy the beginning of November. I do also love Thanksgiving, as anyone would who both adores comfortingly delicious food and is brightened by observing all they have to be grateful for. While those inspirations are among my favorite things about this month, they aren’t really the main reason I love the arrival of November. You see, for me, it is a portal that cannot get here fast enough.
I suppose I need to explain.
Portals, well, lead from one place to another, and for me, that is the very important role November serves. As I am writing this and pondering the idea, I am realizing just how many ways this is true. I think I’ll begin with the most trivial, and quite possibly trite, way. Usually, aside from the ridiculously out-of-character times that do sadly occur, this is a month in which, in these parts, there is finally a respite from the heat of the nearly eternal summer. I say that knowing full well that I just got sunburned last weekend, but still… I wasn’t breathing soup whilst I did so. A Southerner will grasp at any available straw if it means less humidity.
To move on to the more significant ideas surrounding my gateway month, I am going to address multiple topics about which many people have ridiculously strong feelings. I think some of these strong feelings are reasonable, and some are a tad dramatic, but here I go. I actually very literally paused and took a deep breath just then.
November, for me, begins Christmas.
If I’m honest, this year it started the evening of October 31st.
I know. Some of you are appalled.
And some of you are nodding with approval. Waves to my people.
The thing is that I absolutely adore Christmas with every fiber of my being, which I have written about many times, so fear not: that’s not the rabbit trail I am about to follow. I also, other than the beginning of colorful foliage, am not a very big fan of October, mostly because I strongly dislike Halloween. They are two diametrically opposed passions: one the deepest of affections, and the other a relatively civil loathing.
I know. There are readers who just found themselves with twisted knickers, as well as those who are doing that same endearing head nod again.
I shall explain in more detail; however, I do so only to help people understand my perspective, as I do not feel I owe justification in the least.
I don’t like any aspect of Halloween. I guess costumes—and by costumes, I mean lovely, fantastic attire that transports one to another time and place, and nothing gory or evil—are enjoyable at any time of year. Maybe I need to whip up some sort of Christmasy Frost Queen ensemble, complete with sparkling robes lined with fur and a woven holly crown. Wait, scratch the holly, as that sounds terribly uncomfortable. But I do enjoy fanciful costumes.
I also enjoy chocolate, but to say that it is restricted to Halloween is outright sacrilege, as there is no time of year when chocolate is not a good idea. Hence, costumes and chocolate are the only things even close to appealing to me about October’s end, and they truly don’t even technically have to be part of the holiday. So, since I abhor pretty much everything else about it, I have no use for Halloween and am happy to see it go.
So, if you are a very quick-on-the-draw reader, then I may well be decorating my house with garlands and wreaths as you read. If you aren’t quite as Johnny-on-the-spot, just know the job is already done. The tree is up, and stockings are hanging from my mantel. There is a very real chance that, in early November, it may get close to cool enough for the lovely red-and-green tartan throws draped across my couch to be put to their intended purpose.
And yes, I will still happily celebrate Thanksgiving. Fortunately, I do that at my aunt’s house, so it doesn’t matter that my own home will be festooned to the hilt with the attire of the most wonderful time of the year. For me, this joyous time lasts a full two months. If anyone disapproves of this, well, my fall decorations of colorful leaves and gourds have been up since early to mid-August, if that makes anyone feel better.
But for me, it is time.
And passing through that glorious doorway is always a delight.
Thanks for getting here, November. So glad you’ve come.
