Well, hello, November. You're the month that exhales.
October committed. November settles. The leaves are finally down, and suddenly I can see the whole shape of the trees, bare branches against a pale gray sky, and through them, houses I'd forgotten were there all summer. The clocks went back this weekend, which gave us one glorious extra hour of sleep and then took away every minute of afternoon light in exchange. It's dark by suppertime now, and honestly? The kitchen has never felt cozier.
Here's what November looks like at Granny's: the garden is officially asleep, and I'm not going to wake her. The fireplace is earning its keep. And the pantry shelves are fuller than they've been all year: cider, beef, pasta sauce, tomato water, cranberry juice, a whole winter's worth of "future me will thank you." Pie season is here, the kind with a crust that's earned it, and the Thanksgiving menu planner is ready on the Printables page for anyone who wants to get organized.
It's also, if I'm honest, the month I take stock. Not just of the shelves, but of the year: what grew, what flopped (chocolate bars, I'm looking at you), and what surprised me (a nasturtium that moved into the greenhouse). November asks you to be grateful on purpose, and I intend to be, loudly, with gravy.
So welcome, November. The pies are waiting, the fireplace is waiting, and so is a very large pot of something I haven't decided on yet.
What does November look like at your place? Email me at [email protected]. I'd love to hear it.
— Granny
🎨 graphic design assist on this one (the header art is part of the almanac series)
