November: Roots, Warmth and a Little Quiet Magic

November has a very particular smell, doesn’t it? Damp leaves, woodsmoke drifting across the evening air, and that lovely earthiness that seems to rise from the ground after rain. The last of the autumn colour catches the light, then a gust of wind comes along, and suddenly there’s rather more of it beneath our feet!

There’s beauty here, even on the grey days. We just find it in different places. Bare branches against a pale sky. A robin making itself known from the fence. The welcome of a warm room after a walk that turned out to be a little muddier than expected.

And, of course, that first sip of tea when your hands are still cold.

November feels like a threshold to me. Autumn is still very much around us, yet winter is beginning to make its presence felt.

In the seasonal traditions surrounding Samhain, celebrated at the turning of October into November, this threshold marked the beginning of winter. Fires, gathering together and remembrance were woven into the occasion. There’s something quite moving about that connection across the years: people finding warmth and companionship as the nights lengthened, much as we still do today.

Spiritually, I find November carries a thoughtful quality. Memories can feel closer at this time of year. Someone comes to mind through a familiar scent, an old photograph, or a recipe we remember them making. Ordinary things can hold such a lot of love.

For some, that connection has a spiritual meaning. For others, it’s simply the comfort of remembering. There is room for both.

The herbal calendar tells another lovely part of November’s story, much of it happening beneath the soil.

Late autumn is traditionally a time for gathering certain roots, including dandelion and burdock. As their growth above ground dies back, the plants hold reserves below the surface

to support them through winter and into another growing season. The exact timing follows the plant and local conditions, rather than a tidy date in the diary. Nature has always had her own ideas about timing!

I love the thought of that hidden life. Walking past a patch of fading stems, it would be easy to assume that very little was happening. Yet beneath our feet there is still a whole world we cannot see.

There’s a spiritual connection in that for me, too. So much of what shapes us happens quietly. Understanding something differently. Finding a little more peace with an old memory. Beginning to feel like ourselves again. Those changes rarely arrive with much fanfare.

Meanwhile, some familiar herbs remain reassuringly present. Rosemary, with its evergreen leaves and unmistakable fragrance, brings a little continuity to the changing garden. Its scent belongs as comfortably beside a tray of roasting vegetables as it does in the world of aromatherapy. I rather like that about herbs; they have a way of moving between the everyday and the meaningful without making a fuss.

When it comes to the elemental calendar, different traditions offer different ways of understanding the seasons. In the Five Element tradition of Chinese medicine, autumn is associated with Metal, while winter belongs to Water. November sits around that seasonal passage, although the weather outside rarely makes such a neat distinction.

As a spiritual image, that movement feels quite fitting. There is the clarity of autumn, with more of the landscape revealed as the leaves fall, followed by the depth and stillness we often associate with winter.

And then there are the elements as we meet them on an ordinary November day: earth clinging to our boots, wind catching our hair, rain tapping against the window, and the warmth of a flame. They can feel wonderfully immediate at this time of year. A walk certainly has a way of reminding us that we are part of nature, especially when the rain finds its way down the back of our collar!

Aromatherapy brings another layer to November through scent.

Frankincense feels particularly at home in the darker months.

Distilled from resin, it has a sweet, woody aroma that seems to suit quiet surroundings beautifully. To me, there is something spacious about it; a fragrance I associate with reflection and the gentle atmosphere of a treatment room.

Sweet orange brings a different character altogether. Bright, familiar and cheerful, its scent makes me think of peeling an orange and catching that sudden burst of fragrance from the skin. Cedarwood adds a woody depth, while ginger brings a spicy note that feels very much in keeping with the season.

What interests me is how personal our relationship with fragrance can be. A scent one person finds comforting may remind someone else of an entirely different time or place. Within aromatherapy, that individual response is part of the conversation. The person matters as much as the bottle.

Perhaps that is what I enjoy about November as a whole. There is so much texture to it once we look beyond the early darkness: roots beneath the soil, herbs holding their fragrance, memories stirred by familiar things, and little pockets of warmth scattered through the day.

There will still be wet washing, muddy paws and afternoons when the lights seem to go on ridiculously early. I’m sure Indie would have her own thoughts about any suggestion of a shorter walk!

But there will be moments when the sky clears just before dusk, or the house smells of something lovely cooking, and November feels rather generous.

A little earthy, a little mysterious, and full of life beneath the surface.

With love,