Freshly dropped leaves littered our front walk. Bright red and dew-covered, glistening in the warm rays of the morning sun, they were mostly ignored as we bustled out of the house on our way to church. But...
"Stop!" Miriam commanded as we made our way down the stairs. "No one step on them!"
"No one step on what?" I asked.
"The leaves!" she breathed solemnly. "Look how beautiful!"
So I looked. We all looked. And it was beautiful.
We stood on our front porch and we stared at the sidewalk like it was the first snowfall of the year—taking it in like a majestic rainbow after a storm—and let it speak peace to our souls.
"I think November might be my favourite month," she said.
Oh, November! You done us wrong, but we can't hate you because you're so beautiful.
You can't really complain about autumn in the south—sunlight filtering through warm-hued leaves, baby bear temperatures for weeks (not too hot, not too cold, but juuuuuust right), Canada geese arriving by droves in tidy V-formation.
No, no. This Canadian girl can't really complain about autumn in the south.
It's too wonderful.
"I think November is one of my favourite months as well," I agreed. "Here—in this place—November is one of my favourite months."