November is textured and brilliant, a van Gogh painting with brush strokes of genius and soulful undertones. It's an antique brooch pinned on a jean jacket, the rare book collection in a hallowed library and the words of Henri Nouwen tucked into a leather bag for reading on the train. It's twigs and pinecones and birds nests, harvest moon and owl call, squirrels spiraling up the trunk of an oak tree on a frosty morning. November is autumn swan song and hello holidays, pecans to gather andsky-high pie piled with whipped cream. There'll be spicy chai tea, steam rising like perfume, and a few lines by Rumi that stay in your heart all day. November is for seeing life through a lens of gratitude, transforming the days into a precious present. Blessings upon blessings for those who pause to count them. And those who seek to be one.
When is the last time you found a personal note peeking out of your mailbox? From someone who gathered paper, pen or laptop (and thoughts) and focused solely on dear, wonderful you? Well, there will always be correspondence to open here. Love letters from life, written just for you.