Last Thanksgiving at my parents house in Eagle Mountain, UT
fun fact: I was unknowingly pregnant in this photo
I've been thinking about November. Not the end of November with the large warm Thanksgiving gathering and excited whoosh into Christmas. But the quiet, understated beginning and middle of November. The pomp and parade of colors of September/October are through. The winter hasn't begun. The trees are mainly bare and the sky still a sweet blue. I think each year that I get older, I've come to appreciate this in between autumn and winter stage more and more. Or perhaps I'm just getting to know a new November here in Kentucky that doesn't exist as much in the west that I'm accustomed. It's quiet and not boastful. It's chilly but not harsh. It feels like the person I'd like to be. Thoughtful, contemplative and content. Not seeking attention for grandness. Not pushing too much or trying too hard. But simply beautiful without begging to be noticed. And yet, as I've begun to notice how much I truly love November, I'm realizing how inviting it is. As if it's that person that I begin to truly see for the first time for how good they are.
