November
November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.
Our eleventh month is November, named from the Latin novem meaning nine. Like those months surrounding it, it kept its name from the original ten-month calendar. Nine represents enlightenment, it is a completeness with a nod toward perfection. It is November, and gratitude is front and center. The resources of the earth are receding, as autumn gives way to winter. All that was so recently abundant, prepares for its winter sleep. From the same letter I quoted above, Emily says, “I winced at her loss because I was in the habit of her.” Let us be more than ‘in the habit’ of all that we value. Let us be truly grateful.
Birth Customs for November
November Flower
November mums continue blooming,
Though the winter sky is looming.
She will be the last to fall,
Our garden’s final curtain call.
November Zodiac
Scorpio brings us together
In November’s autumn weather
Then we meet the gifted archer
At this gusty month’s departure
The Magic of November
Correspondences
Herbs: Sage, Ginger
Totems: Owl
Stones: Goldstone, Amber
Birthstone: Imperial Topaz
Birth Flower: Chrysanthemum
Celtic Trees: Birch & Rowen
Nature Spirits: Subterranean Fae
Spellwork
Balance
Renew
Prosper
Appreciate
Justice
Aromatherapy
Woodland Wanderer
3 drops Sandalwood
3 drops Cypress
1 drop Pine
Meditation
The secret to having it all is knowing you already do.
Unknown
Science of November
Astronomy
Name: November
Length: 30 Days
Full Moon: November 12th
New Moon: November 26th
Zodiac: Scorpio & Sagittarius
Full Moon
Colonial American: Beaver Moon
Celtic: Dark Moon
Chinese: White Moon
Cherokee: Traders Moon
Old English: Snow Moon
Poetry for November
November Comes
November comes
And November goes,
With the last red berries
And the first white snows.
With night coming early,
And dawn coming late,
And ice in the bucket
And frost by the gate.
The fires burn
And the kettles sing,
And earth sinks to rest
Until next spring.
November
There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o’er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
An Orphan’s Lament
She’s gone — and twice the summer’s sun
Has gilt Regina’s towers,
And melted wild Angora’s snows,
And warmed Exina’s bowers.
The flowerets twice on hill and dale
Have bloomed and died away,
And twice the rustling forest leaves
Have fallen to decay,
And thrice stern winter’s icy hand
Has checked the river’s flow,
And three times o’er the mountains thrown
His spotless robe of snow.
Two summers springs and autumns sad
Three winters cold and grey —
And is it then so long ago
That wild November day!
They say such tears as children weep
Will soon be dried away,
That childish grief however strong
Is only for a day,
And parted friends how dear soe’er
Will soon forgotten be;
It may be so with other hearts,
It is not thus with me.
My mother, thou wilt weep no more
For thou art gone above,
But can I ever cease to mourn
Thy good and fervent love?
While that was mine the world to me
Was sunshine bright and fair;
No feeling rose within my heart
But thou couldst read it there.
And thou couldst feel for all my joys
And all my childish cares
And never weary of my play
Or scorn my foolish fears.
Beneath thy sweet maternal smile
All pain and sorrow fled,
And even the very tears were sweet
Upon thy bosom shed.
Thy loss can never be repaired;
I shall not know again
While life remains, the peaceful joy
That filled my spirit then.
Where shall I find a heart like thine
While life remains to me,
And where shall I bestow the love
I ever bore for thee?