November is the bleakest month. November 1st honors dead and overlooked saints. November 2nd is dedicated to the souls in Purgatory. I could never keep those two holydays straight when I was a kid, which was troubling because it seems one day was a Holy Day of Obligation, while the other was optional. My grandmother died in early November after suffering a fall on October 8; that date I'm sure of for some reason. The time change just seems to make the days seem shorter and grayer; I don't know why we still undergo that change. Most farm workers work by artificial light these days; they don't need daylight. Besides, I don't think the sun even shines in November.
On the last day of October this year, I planted the tulip bulbs in the giftbag from Danny and Krystal's wedding. I planted five bulbs by the foundation in the front of my house, in the sunniest and warmest spot I could find. I'm hoping that when the snow melts in March I will see some bright remembrance of a happy day. (I saved one bulb to plant in a pot inside to try to force it to bloom early. Anything to lessen the grayness.)
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