November, Geoffrey and Marmite

November is the pearl-grey month, the changeling between warm crimson October and cold white December; the month when the leaves fall in slow drifting whirls and the shapes of the trees are revealed. When the earth imperceptibly wakes and stretches her bare limbs and displays her stubborn unconquerable strength before she settles uneasily into winter. November is secret and silent. --Alison Uttley
November is always the month that creeps in slowly through the back door, like a silent cat that shocks the heck out of you by - BAM - just being THERE. Whoa. How the heck...? When did you get here?

The festivities of Halloween came and went for us like a rumor. We don't get trick-or-treaters in our neighbourhood, so apart from the single little bag of candy I always buy "just in case," I barely thought about Halloween at all. And it wasn't even good candy. I mean, it's candy, I will not waste good sugar treats, but I'm slowly dispersing it via my candy bowl on my desk at work. Nothing stops complaints better than being confronted by a bowl of Tootsie Pops.

November is oven-warmth time... the time when I look forward to dinner because it means I get to bask in the rush of warmth from opening the oven to reveal roasted good stuff. It's the time when I feel like making cooked breakfasts on the weekends... except they usually get so involved that I'm starving by the time it's all ready to eat. I tried a new pancake recipe this morning, and it resulted in the lightest, pillowy, fluffy pancakes I've ever made. Kind of like a pancake meringue, without the chewy sugar. It was like eating air, which is why I felt pretty good about eating four of them:


And then for lunch, I made a batch of tomato soup, plus a batch of these scones, except I had to use frozen blueberries and dried cranberries. They were so good that I'm very much obliged to make more:


Meanwhile, on the couch, I sit cozily under my knitted shawls and blankets as I work away on other warm, wooly things. I finished this panel the other day, and it's currently sitting out to dry. The sheep turned out pretty well, apart from the ones I put too close to the edge. I think it'll be ok once it dries and I put some kind of edging on it:


These two on the end are my favourite. I call the dark one Geoffrey and the one on the end Marmite. Why? Because I think those are their names:


I am trying to figure out if I have enough yarn to knit squares that I will be able to sew onto the back of this one to make it a cushion, but it looks like I might be cutting it pretty darn close. And since I'm pretty sure I'm doomed to fail, I'm not knitting particularly quickly. Heh. Nothing quite like procrastination to make the inevitable suck even more.

However, I got some news today that prompted me to knit this:


It's a dove. For peace. And for sending love to those who have lost loved ones. I hope he helps.

So here we are: November. The geese are flying away, the snow is slowly drifting in, and the darkness is coming. And here I am, sitting in the comfort of wool and scones. They're not the answer to everything, but I've been looking for answers for a long time, and these are the best ones I've found so far.

Happy Sunday.

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