The first of November always feels like a reset button in disguise. The air is quieter, the light softer, and the kitchen feels like the only place that really understands transition.

I’ll start the morning with pancakes from the last of the buttermilk I made last week. There’s something poetic about using what’s left, like proof that the end of one thing can still taste like the beginning of another.

Dinner will be simple: country potato soup and popovers, both leftovers from the fridge. It’s not a brand-new recipe kind of day, it’s a reheating and remembering kind of day. The kind that says, “you don’t have to start from scratch to begin again.”

And later, I’ll cut into the final slice of pumpkin spice sheet cake. Crumbly edges, a thin layer of frosting, the sweet reminder that seasons — and cakes — aren’t meant to last forever.

And I couldn’t help but wonder… maybe November isn’t asking us to do more. Maybe it’s inviting us to slow down, reheat what’s good, and find beauty in the leftovers.

What’s on your menu?

Gracefully yours,

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