A Ray of Sunshine in November: Small Joys, Foggy Views, and the Quest to Keep Mango Plants Alive

Today, I woke up to one of those rare, beautiful November mornings—a crisp, sunny start with a light mist hovering over the ponds and hills at the golf course nearby. We’ve had some much-needed rain; the garden soil was cracked and thirsty, and with the sprinklers packed up for the season, this rainfall was just what we needed. But today’s sunlight mixed with mist? It was like something out of a dream. Naturally, I ran outside barefoot to try and capture it… which might have been optimistic, given my, let’s say, “enthusiastic” but not-so-skillful photography. The pictures? Well, let’s just say they don’t quite match the breathtaking sight. A real “bummer” moment!

Just as I was about to give up, my daughter peeked outside, her eyes widening. “Wow,” she whispered. I looked again, and the mist had turned into a thick blanket of fog! Now, instead of that clear view, the whole golf course was lost in a beautiful white haze, with just a few trees visible and everything else vanished. I couldn’t help but laugh—nature had gone from picture-perfect to mysterious in seconds.

Seasons Changing, Plants Resettling

November is that tricky month when winter’s just around the corner. A few weeks ago, when temps dipped to freezing, I hauled all my tropical plants inside to save them from the frost. So now, my home looks like a miniature jungle, with green in every nook and cranny. Most of my plant family is doing pretty well adjusting to the indoors—except for one stubborn mango plant that seems intent on giving me a run for my money.

You see, this mango came from a nursery I’m starting to suspect isn’t the best. I lost another mango from them earlier, and this one looks like it might follow. Just last night, I heard the final young leaf drop with a sad little rustle. If you’ve ever nurtured a plant, only to watch it slowly struggle, you know the heartbreak!

Thankfully, I keep new plants separated until they prove themselves healthy. Some plants from nurseries look lovely on the shelf but come with “extras”—like scale, spider mites, or fungi. So, I’m keeping my other mango (from a different nursery and doing great!) far away, hoping it doesn’t catch anything. The healthy one is even ripening a mango right now, so there’s a little bit of victory in my indoor orchard!

Plant Care as Therapy

Caring for these plants is one of those simple joys I still manage even on tougher MS days. It’s grounding to have a purpose in tending to them. And I’m not alone in this—I use plant apps to remind me when it’s time to water, rotate, or just leave them be (not easy for a “hovering plant parent” like me!). My Christmas cactus is also in full bloom with vibrant red flowers cascading down, a reminder that even in dark, early evenings, beauty can still show up. It’s like my own private festival of color as winter approaches.

The Power of Little Joys

This morning’s foggy scene was one of those fleeting moments that left me feeling unexpectedly happy. Even though the sun quickly vanished behind that thick fog, it reminded me that there are always little surprises in life, even in the November gray.

So here I am, savoring the beauty of this fog, my red-blooming cactus, and the life growing around me. Later today, I’ll be visiting a warm farm—another little adventure. But for now, I’ll take this moment, even if it’s just the calm of a foggy morning and a sun we can barely see. Nature always has a way of keeping us curious.