I’m sitting on my sofa with a strong cup of coffee (for a change) .. you know it’s that time of the month when you crave the exact opposite of your usual comforts. I’m tucked under a soft throw, and it’s properly cold tonight .. the kind of chill that paints your cheeks pink without warning. A sure sign that winter has quietly arrived.

The coffee table is glowing candles flickering, fairy lights lazily tangled, lampshades casting their soft amber haze across the room.

It’s one of those evenings where life slows itself down without asking. The air smells faintly of roasted coffee and cinnamon, there’s music playing low somewhere in the background, and my thoughts feel… unhurried. I’ve been meaning to sit down and write this — my November diary — the one where I gather the scattered bits of the season and try to make sense of it all.

By the way I’ve been thinking… maybe next year I’ll finally get myself a new laptop and maybe.. just maybe.. expand my blog into video. It’s not a solid plan yet, more of a daydream, but I thought I’d say it out loud here.

There’s something about this month.. it’s hard to explain, but it feels enchanted in the most ordinary way. The air smells different, food tastes better, and even the quiet feels alive. I won’t go full poetic here, but honestly, if you just notice the small things around you, you’ll feel it too.

The Kind of List That Smells Like Cinnamon and Candlelight 🍂

Well between cups of tea, open windows, and half-finished thoughts.. I made myself a list ..not the ambitious kind, just a gentle nudge to do a little, feel a lot, and notice everything in between.

1. Bake, just because it feels right

Every weekend deserves something from the oven .. ginger loaves, cinnamon cookies, or warm muffins that make the whole house smell like comfort. No goals, no “content” .. just me, the whisk, and the quiet sound of butter melting.

2. Declutter gently (with tea, obviously)

A slow clean-up, one corner at a time. The bookshelf, the tray that collects too many “just for now” things, the drawer I pretend doesn’t exist. I light a candle, put on music, and call it therapy that smells like lemon polish.

3. Move, but kindly

I’ve gained about 5 kilos (the cosy months always do that to me). So, I bought new gym wear .. something about it instantly makes me feel like I’ve got my life together. I’ve actually started taking the gym seriously now. Evening walks, slow stretches, a bit of cardio .. it’s a must.

4. Hydrate like a grown-up

Apparently, coffee doesn’t count as hydration (rude, but true). I’ve started keeping a tall glass bottle near me .. aesthetics as motivation.

5. Add one new glow

A new candle scent, a strand of fairy lights above the mirror, maybe even a warm amber lamp. Lighting changes everything .. even your mood at 7 p.m. when life feels slightly too loud.

6. Cook what’s in season

Root veggies, fresh greens, and pots of soup that simmer slowly while the house smells like patience. Eating what’s fresh and real feels grounding in ways I can’t explain.

7. An evening offline

Just one night with no screens, no background noise. Maybe writing, maybe just staring into the candle flame. Quiet can feel like company if you let it.

8. Small digital tidy-up

Delete screenshots from July, back up your favourite memories, and clear your phone gallery like it’s spring-cleaning for your mind. Little tasks that somehow feel bigger once done.

9. Refresh the work corner

Wipe down the desk, organise the stationery, add a plant, maybe a diffuser. I think better when my space looks like it’s cheering for me.

10. Sit with what’s unsettled

Not everything needs fixing right now. Some thoughts, some worries —

.. they just need space. November feels like that kind of month where you learn to sit with things instead of rushing to solve them.

I’m not chasing big goals this month. Just steadiness. Some kind of rhythm between slow mornings and mildly chaotic evenings. November, to me, isn’t about reinventing anything — it’s about returning to what feels real. The small rituals, the quiet corners, the cup of tea that somehow fixes everything for five minutes. That’s enough.

If you’re still here, thank you.

This space feels like sharing a slow cup of tea with someone who understands calm.

Let’s keep living that way.

Dolly