I love November, it is leaf raking month! Unfortunately because of the lockdown it has all to be done on the first 4 days, my front garden yields 8 or more huge cubic metre builders bags of leaves every year and they have to go to the tip because I just do not have space to compost them down.
Anyway I was outside this morning and filled the first sack, ready to go to the tip after lunch. The weather is overcast but it is not raining and I rake and bag with the wind.
I came indoors with rosy cheeks feeling quite exhilerated with my work and looking forward to repeating the exercise everyday for the next three days. There are more leaves to come, but most are down so come 1 December, or whenever the tips reopen I will be there again with big bags of leaves.
I prefer the sentiments of Lucy Montgomery's poem November Evening. I give only the first two and last two verses.
Come, for the dusk is our own; let us fare forth together,
With a quiet delight in our hearts for the ripe, still, autumn weather,
Through the rustling valley and wood and over the crisping meadow,
Under a high-sprung sky, winnowed of mist and shadow.
Sharp is the frosty air, and through the far hill-gaps showing
Lucent sunset lakes of crocus and green are glowing;
'Tis the hour to walk at will in a wayward, unfettered roaming,
Caring for naught save the charm, elusive and swift, of the gloaming.
....................................................
Beautiful is the year, but not as the springtime maiden garlanded with her hopes, rather the woman laden
With wealth of joy and grief, worthily won through living,
Wearing her sorrow now like a garment of praise and thanksgiving.
Gently the dark comes down over the wild, fair places,
The whispering glens in the hills, the open, starry spaces;
Rich with the gifts of the night, sated with questing and dreaming,
We turn to the dearest of paths where the star of the homelight is gleaming.
but we certainly have our fair share here