Agnes Obel provides the musical calm for this wintry post. After granting us a bit of a reprieve for November, Mother Nature has lobbed her first winter weather at us, and the wind and the chill bring January to mind. This music is indicative of that shift. Not wholly unwelcome, as we have to go through winter to get out of it. And winter holds its own enchantments if we can be brave enough to find and enjoy them. 

The first snowfall seemed to come mostly at night, which feels a bit unfair to the kids who were waiting and watching. That was a favorite activity for my brother and me at this time of the year, and it would often be the first (and only) time we’d convince Dad to light the fireplace. Mom would make cups of hot chocolate, and as the first flakes of snow fell on the raw and tender ground, my brother and I would run around and celebrate the irrevocable coming of winter. 

On this recent end-of-November morning, I stepped outside to take a few photos of the snow that had nestled in this juniper. The wind was brutal, and the sun did little to temper the cold. So the season begins…

Snow softens things in a way that almost nothing else can. It provides insulation to the gardens, creating a haven of consistent temperatures to stave off heaving and other dangers to the plants. We can’t be completely mad at it for that reason alone. 

Even better, snow provides a reflective surface for light to double its effects, something we need as the shortest day of the year quickly approaches. The more light, the higher the spirits. 

There is magic there too. 

Outside the window a towering stand of fountain grass, brown and desiccated and paper-like, shudders and flails in the wind. A few strands are torn and blown high into the air. A light blue sky bereft of clouds stands behind it all. I make a cup of tea and ascend the small staircase to the attic room, where the heater has been running for a while. It is finally warm here, and this will be where I spend the day in cozy fashion. Surrounded by candles that flicker and glow, the light of the room is soft and the fragrance hints of the holidays – spices and pine trees and incense. 

The feeling is at odds with the wind raging outside – a wind that rattles the roof, rumbling across the expanse above me. We lead such precarious lives – only a single roof between survival and demise – and it’s as dramatic and plain as it sounds. Cradling the cup of elderberry tea, warm in my hands, I sip and live to enter another night. 

Beside a Boston brownstone, a bunch of berries dangles above the steps leading to someone’s home. They sway slightly in the breeze and the afternoon sunlight, impossibly incandescent even in the strongest of rays. A natural holiday decoration, they hang like the littlest of ornaments, paving the way for the Christmas trees already on the march. 

They are coming…

They do things better in Norway. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nDLumk_rQQw

The annual bridge from Thanksgiving to Christmas gets erected with this Turkey Lurkey post. In addition, the featured GIF is a wild turkey I captured while in Boston earlier this year. If not today, when? What on earth a wild turkey was doing skulking about Downtown Crossing is anyone’s guess. Anticipating the end times, in all likelihood. 

Today’s quiet Thanksgiving actually wasn’t the quietest I’ve ever had, and for that reason it was less sad than anticipated. The quietest year was when I stayed on campus at Brandeis to work at Structure early the next morning. That didn’t seem sad at the time, though looking back I marvel that it didn’t bother me more. My mind at the time was a little work obsessed. We make our choices the best way we know how. Almost absolutely no regrets. 

This candle is around twenty-five years old, purchased and first lit when I had just moved into the Boston condo. Way back then, in its original incarnation, this candle was black, but in the decades that followed, and its various locations in the sunlight, it has lightened to a shade of midnight blue – one of those mystical machinations of astral bodies and their various powers. 

As the wax melted and revealed pieces of a life two and a half decades ago, I thought of all the particles and dust that were now being freed – and what looked like an old match stick buried in the dark blue abyss now suddenly recalled to life. The thrill of excavation in a candle. What parties had this object once helped to illuminate? What romances and friendships had it witnessed with its glowing flame? What sorrows and breakdowns did it ever aim to ease? The past felt plaintively bound into this present moment, weighing it down and still somehow buoying the heart. Long-dormant memories rise to the surface as the flame licks at the tender bindings of the past. 

The evening in Boston has begun early, and I start to decorate for the holidays again after skipping it all last year. 

My Mom asked for my Christmas wish list, which is the only reason I’m putting this together right now. The past couple of years have re-prioritized things in my mind, and while I won’t ever say no to a present or gift, they don’t concern me as much as they once did. That said, if someone wants to get me something I am guaranteed to enjoy (as opposed to risky moves like attempting to guess what I might like) here are a few ideas, in addition to the requisite Amazon Wish List that I just updated as well. 

This companion book – Tom Ford 002 – is pretty reasonable, considering what he charges for everything else. 

Any Tom Ford underwear will do as well, such as this lavender boxer brief in size small. 

Frederic Malle’s line of fragrance is where my scent journey really took off, on the second floor of the now-defunct Barneys at Copley Place in Boston. The memory of it is still sweet, and can still be found in the 50 ML bottle of ‘Musc Ravageur’ at this link. 

This ‘Portrait of a Lady’ shower cream by Frederic Malle would be a glorious indulgence. 

For the office, this soft gray Tallia sport coat (size 40S) in tan and gray is befitting of the subdued sartorial simplicity I’m feeling these days. 

Finally, this new fragrance ‘Eremia’ by Aesop would be the best antidote for a cold winter. 

As for other more mundane concerns, we need a new stereo, but Andy would have to tell you which one will work with the sound system we have. 

How we have arrived at the week of Thanksgiving is a marvel to me, and I think it’s such a shock because the weather has been kinder than it usually is at this time of the year, and so it seems like we can’t quite be here yet. I’m still hoping that makes for a short and quick winter to make up for last summer. 

This weekend was spent in Boston for a mental health getaway and a reunion with Kira for our Friendsgiving tradition – but more on that later. For now, the look back at the previous week…

Holiday hinting becomes something more by the end of the week. 

Raindrops on pine trees. 

The oak tree leaves, late in falling.

Red against blue in the only way it should matter. 

A mound of sequins, a mound of mesh.

The forest through the trees.

Remembering Andy’s Mum.

Radials of warmth and comfort.

Andy’s chicken curry (still not in a hurry but very much worth the wait).

A wet and colorful explosion of color. 

November gratitude.

Dazzler of the Day included Jeff Goldblum and Steve Barnes.

Thank you, November, for being kind to us in the weather department, when so much else seems to have gone wrong. Your sunlight and your relative-warmth has been appreciated and noted for its solace-like balm, as if in apology to the rest of the world. I offer gratitude whenever I can in the hopes that such a reprieve lasts through the end of the year. 

We have found calm in the afternoon sunlight slanting through the leaves of the Chinese dogwood seen here, and the fiery scarlet of the Japanese maple. We found peace in the gentle swaying of the fountain grass and its feathery seed-heads waving in the wind. Thank you for letting such beauty linger longer than you usually do. We needed the extension.