From the Archive — November 2025
Dear Friend,
A long drive does more for my soul than just about anything. It’s a chance to see what there is to see, especially this time of year. October milkweed bursting open to let its silky floss drift off into the wind. Roadside stands with hand-painted signs promising pumpkins and apple cider. A railroad track running alongside the highway and a freight train with a long, whooping whistle I can feel in my chest. The sound always leaves me feeling both lonesome and free, though I don’t have the words to explain why. Do you know this feeling?
Last week, we drove up to New York to get the old house ready to sell. The leaves upstate were just past peak but still lovely. The air, tinged with woodsmoke and frost. I inhaled every lungful I could. It was good to see the Adirondacks in the distance, even if there wasn’t time to see them up close.
On the long drive back down to South Carolina, we detoured in Pennsylvania near Boiling Springs to get from one interstate to another. The back roads wound past stone farmhouses (easily 200 years old or more) and past flattened cornfields where hundreds of geese settled in the rows to harvest what was left. Who could ever get enough of scenery like that?
We hit the mountains in West Virginia just after sunset. In last month’s letter, I wrote that I don’t see the moon often enough anymore. Well, my luck turned. Just ahead, a tiny sliver of new moon was pinned to the sky like a parenthesis separated from its partner—as though whatever thought it contained before was too much to hold. For miles, I watched this moon, pink against the violet-navy of the sky, as it fell, fell, fell, and then was gone. I’ve thought about it every day since.
I listened to “Bluebird” by Anna Graves about 57 times (I was alone in the car), until the lyrics wore a groove into my brain, in the part that stores the best things. (What I do when I find a new song I love.) Later, to keep from getting sleepy, I cranked up Elton John’s greatest hits and sang along. Highly recommend this method.
I’m so grateful and thrilled that you joined this little mail club, and I hope it adds some extra joy and beauty to your days. May your November bring time with people you love and enough really good things that—in spite of the rest—you know you’ll make it through to the other side once again.
x
Jennifer
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