I barely tolerate the other eleven months. No, that’s not quite true; I’m fond of April, too. Its freshness is so welcome after a long, cold winter - especially when the sun starts warming up the ground bringing to life the crocus, daffodil and iris bulbs I planted in late fall. But wait, I’m getting way too far ahead. I still have one last day of my beloved October. I must make the most of it – as if it were the last few hours of Christmas Day when one realizes it’s almost over and won’t be back for another year.
What shall I do with this last twenty-four hours? I could go for a long walk and try to locate the last remnants of color on hillsides whose trees were clothed in a brilliant array of color only a few weeks ago. Most of them are either brown or naked now, limbs outstretched - bracing for the first assault from Mother Nature - a heavy frost or snowfall. I could stay inside, drink hot cider and curl up with a good book. Or I could invite the grandchildren for a sleepover, pop popcorn, watch scary movies and let them stay up much later than their mother would allow.
No matter what I do, I can’t stop time. Sadly, October is gone for another year. So I will probably do what I’m most inclined to do—stay right here at my computer writing about how wonderful the months of November and December are going to be!