Hi, all, Just wanted to share some feelings about this 'dark, cold month'...at least for those in cold climes...Sorry this doesn't apply to everyone; but I know you get gray days as well. Just wanna give November a better name... It's been truly grand commenting again, and I hope to be back a lot sooner this time. You're all grand to me, and your art is equally grand. And thanks for being so patient when I drop out this often: I appreciate everything you give me, and to each other. Have a good week! With wishes for peace and love, from the cold, windy, and magical midwest, Mark * * * A lot of my friends say November is 'depressing', esp after the glorious and breathtaking hues of October. But here's my take: In cold climes, there's the light. There's no other light like it. November dons this silver, royal glow, so even when it's gray, it's silver gray: It shines. Many days, as I walk through the parks near the now-tempestuous Lake (boaters have to move their boats, because the Lake becomes a tumultuous bear in the cold), the trees become these bony silhouettes against the sky---which is jewel-silver---and you now see the exquisite articulation of the branches in ways you couldn't see all summer: They're like the veins and fingers of Michelangelo's hands: They speak a special language... And the smoke---rising from the buildings---feels like the offerings of some ancient rite; or like this is where the sky comes from---I thought this as a kid: November pours smoke into the cosmos, painting the sky into place; and the sky becomes this huge watercolor-wash, where the smoke billows into it the way paint billows into water... And then, there's no more luscious feeling than gushing your feet through the shag-carpet of leaves that now cover the ground everywhere. You wade, not walk; and the crunch-and-swoosh of those leaves are a special, sweet music (they "swish" because it rains in November, and that produces a kind of 'leaf-stew'; so, as you walk through them, they go swoooosh, swoooosh, like wet sneakers or walking over water-logged towels... Further, there's the still-pungent-and-sweet odor of the leaves---like nature put out scented candles for you, or incense sticks. It's everywhere...And the early evenings make the lights so blessed, reminding you that there's shelter, warmth and food all around (and also reminds you, as it must, of how hard the season is for those who don't have any of that; a call to remembering those who have less). Soon the leaves are everywhere---on bushes, cars, dogs, streets. A gigantic throw rug plopped on the earth...then the leaves turn a deep golden-amber---as if November 'braised' them---and the earth radiates with the hues of braised meat or fresh baked breads. Then...as the month wanes...the leaves disappear: They get melded into the soil, or kicked into gulleys: Eventually they disappear. Depressing? Yes. But it's actually a profound transformation: Everything now prepares for gestation: The world's going back to the womb---right before your eyes---slowly rolling into a fetal ball where it will hibernate through the frigid blasts of winter (at least in Chicago), and stay silent and crouched until the spring comes back again. It may be bleak, but it's preparing itself for an eventual rebirth. How does it feel? Have you ever been in a hotel just before it shuts-down for winter? I mean in places where the winter is too vast, and hotels can't stay open? Well it's stunning: The rooms slowly and imperceptibly empty; there are no sounds left---you can hear your echo wherever you go, the walls are now vast cavernous chambers; the dining halls become huge barren canyons; and the few employees left---staying loyally until the last patron leaves---are suddenly extremely friendly because you have this bond with them now: It's a strangely intimate moment, as you're bonded by being the only people left 'on earth', so it seems, and you're suddenly very close... That's late November, to me. Soon the silver-tinged crown of November will hand its robes to winter, and the smoke from chimneys will become a prodigious gift, while the frigid air reminds you that, however big or strong you think you are, this earth will soon tell everyone just how fragile we all are, and how blessed it is to have warmth and nurturing in this world... I wish you all a wonderful month, with magic, light, health and inspiration. And thank you for your wonderful and loving kindness once more... m ------------------