November Rain

November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.
                                                    --Emily Dickinson

Yesterday, heavy cloud cover moved in over the Shire.
The sky was overcast in impenetrable shades of gray,
portending rain that had not yet arrived.
Occasional gusts of wind added to the dreariness of the day.


 A view of the northern coast of the Shire, taken from the Virginia Peninsula

But such are many November days in Tidewater: damp, chilly, gray.
If one ever wondered what inspired Edgar Allen Poe's
dank, dark, and dismal settings, this is the place.


An abandoned pier off the coast of Fort Monroe

Last night, the rain finally arrived, plastering fallen leaves onto walkways
and leaving everything covered in beads of cold water.
But as bone-chilling as such days and nights can be,
they also afford opportunities to appreciate "the cozy":
bowls of hot soup, soft and fuzzy throws,
warm yellow light shining from windows into the darkness,
and my favorite, opening the door after being outside in the cold
and having the warm air inside the house envelope me.

The sun will come out soon, I'm sure.
After all, as the Chinese proverb says "It can't rain every day."
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