“November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year,” said Margaret, standing at the window one dull afternoon, looking out at the frostbitten garden.

“That’s the reason I was born in it,” observed Jo pensively, quite unconscious of the blot on her nose.

“If something very pleasant should happen now, we should think it a delightful month,” said Beth, who took a hopeful view of everything, even November.

—Louisa May Alcott, Little Women, Chapter 15

Little Women is  November kind of book, and today is the kind of November day I picture whenever I read this passage. Wet, dreary, chilly. It’s a cup-of-tea-while-curled-up-in-front-of-the-fire-with-a-book kind of day. A book like, say, Little Women.

Unless you have to work, in which case you wait until after you get home and eat dinner to curl up in front of the fire with a cup of tea, and you realize that you’re too tired to read anything. But because you’ve made a commitment to blog every day of said “disagreeable month,” you find yourself curled up with your laptop instead of a book.

I wrote about my love of this book a few months ago, and about that same time, Bona Fide Betty and I made a virtual date to reread Little Women together come December. November seems like an appropriate month to do so as well, especially considering it’s the month Jo was born.

Soon. But not tonight.

:::yawn:::

Author’s note: I did make a commitment to blog daily in November. I did not guarantee that every blog entry (or any, really) would be brilliant. 🙂