November Song

I couldn't help but think of Kurt Weil's September Song today...

"Oh, its a long, long while from May to December
But the days grow short when you reach September
When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame,
One hasn't got time for the waiting game.

Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days I'll spend with you..."

I always forget how sad I get in November. People love the fall with all the blazing colours and the chill in the air. But to me it means a kind of death. The trees losing their leaves and the flowers in the garden crumpling up with the frost. I've been walking around with a heavy heart and a sadness I can't seem to shake.

I suppose the weariness I feel was compounded by hearing that author, Gille Leroy has won France's Goncourt prize for his book Alabama Song-- a contrafactual novel about Zelda Fitzgerald, wife of novelist F.Scott Fitzgerald. Dear reader, I was just telling you a few days ago that I had written a fictional autobiography of Zelda Fitzgerald. It's been my lifelong interest and I've just spent four years working on it.

Perhaps you have experienced something like this and would like to share your thoughts on how you felt. In the meantime, I'll end here. Today I just haven't got the capacity.