FLAVOR OF THE MONTH- MAY

May is a swelling note in the chorus of months. It strains ever upward as it builds and grows toward the summer crescendo.

THE FLAVOR OF THE MONTH- JANUARY

 In January, the sun shines and sparkles across snowed-over fields. drifted roads, frozen lakes and the woods etched in white. On January nights, the moon stares unblinking on a quiet, shimmery, silver world. It is beautiful in a way that few other months can rival.

I think If all the months became women, January would easily be one of the most striking, but also perhaps the least approachable. January is the white lady- the purest of winter months. She is white upon white and her laughter is like the tinkling of a falling icicle. She is so pure and unsullied. Her lines are so clean. Everything about her is other-worldly and sparkling white, but she is not warm and generous. She is not comfortable to be around. She is a cold woman.

The white lady would catch the eye to be sure, but I don’t think that many men would be bold enough to pursue her. Men would respond to her presence by dressing their heart in layers, for January is not kind, or helpful, or caring, or loving, or charitable, but she is pretty. Yes, she’s that.

THE FLAVOR OF THE MONTH- DECEMBER

A cold wind flows over the tops of the bare hills like water over a dam, blasting the exposed slopes and flooding the valleys with storm. It howls across fields and over the tops of chimneys. Snow hisses and settles in the black forest as animals huddle underground among the roots.

In the town, it's blowing wind and snow all through the empty streets. Each home is an enclave of warmth and comfort. Their merry windows cast an orange glow on the drifting snow. Winter tests the defenses. It curls under the eaves, and tries the seals around doors and windows, but inside everything is snug and secure. The fire crackles and children explore under the blankets with their toes. Winter's rage is impotent. The cheer within is equal to the chill without. Do your worst, winter, do your worst.

THE FLAVOR OF THE MONTH- NOVEMBER

If November were a color it would be brown. Perhaps, it is not quite so brown as March or early April, but it follows October like an ugly Sister, and looks all the browner for it. By comparison it cannot help but appear dreary, monochromatic and glum. The naked trees, the blackened leaves, and the cold, metallic water speak of an in-between place. November is in limbo between falling leaves and falling snow. Falling snow is preferable.