On Grief and Grieving - November 2026

November 1, 2026

It took the first swallow of coffee this morning for me to figure out what had happened to the clocks. I’d first opened my eyes at what I thought was 5 AM. Apparently it was 4. I rolled over and went back to sleep, having given the matter about as much thought as I was capable of at that hour. The next time I looked out the bedroom window, there was enough color in the sky to send me hurrying for the patio door with my camera.

Old Haymaker was right on time. I was the one who’d forgotten about the time change.

I managed to catch a narrow strip of gold along the horizon with ripples of pink overhead. At 7:09 it was 47 degrees, with a light breeze out of the northeast. I stepped onto the deck in a T-shirt and stayed long enough to get a few pictures. I’d call it tolerable. Comfortable would require a fleece jacket.

By 9:24 AM I had a batch of bone-shaped veggie treats out of the oven for Theo.

While they cooled,

I headed down to the family room to make a label for another one of those cashew jars I’ve been saving. Later in the morning I texted Mia to let her know I had a few things for her family, Theo included.

While I waited on the deck, I heard a commotion over by the middle school that sounded like a fox had gotten into a henhouse. About a dozen crows were pacing around on the ground a hundred feet or so from where I sat.

If it was a convention, I couldn’t tell who had the floor.

Mia came over with some more of her banana bread, this time with a cream cheese frosting, and a couple of containers from previous deliveries. She took one look at Theo’s treat jars and asked where in the world I’d gotten them. When I told her I’d made them, I practically had to produce photographic evidence.

Fortunately, I had some. We visited for ten or fifteen minutes, and when she asked how I was doing, I told her I’d been having better days. The nurse in her had a few questions about what had happened and what came next. She hoped I wouldn’t think she was being nosy. I appreciated her asking, particularly when she said she hoped I wasn’t in pain.

Around 1 o’clock I set out for what I had in mind would be a short walk. An hour and a little over 4,000 steps later, I’d covered considerably more ground than I expected. My first stop was the parking lot behind the middle school, where I finally got a look at the source of all that noise I’d heard from the deck over the summer. Behind the fence sat the heavy equipment and a small mountain of crushed stone, concrete and whatever else those trucks have been hauling away.

Farther around the school I found an opening in the fence where I could photograph the high school stadium project. I’ve driven past it any number of times, but from that spot I could see the steelwork and the row of concrete bays stretching along the field.

It gave me a much better idea of the size of the undertaking. To be perfectly frank, the thought of spending upwards of $25 million on a freaking stadium still annoys me. Having spent years in the classroom, I can think of plenty of ways that money could have made a much better difference for students.

I found quite a bit along the way that was easier on my disposition, including a coppery red oak leaf,

a whole row of trees changing color along the parking lot,

and some feathery grasses catching the afternoon sun.

It was a refreshing walk. I did find myself thinking about how soon all that color will give way to snow, ice, sleet and, worst of all, the cold. In the meantime, it was the first of November and I was still considering dinner on the deck.

Kimberly stopped by around 4:30 to help me change the bandage the dermatologist had put on my back last week. Once she’d finished tending to the spot I can’t reach, we sat and talked for the better part of an hour before she headed home.

By 6:13 it was already quite dark outside, just as I’d suspected it would be. I may actually get my blog notes in early this evening, which is just fine with me.

Today was somewhat of a reality check, with the time change and nightfall arriving far too soon in the day, I got a wake-up call of what's to be on hand for quite some time to come. Night time and early mornings are usually the most difficult times of the day for me, that's when I ponder all that has transpired over the past year + and what the future may or may not have in store for me.

I'm fairly certain it's going to be yet another long and lonely winter. If only Fran were still here to help me cope.