ode to november

Some really don’t like November. It looks old and worn and cold and bare, I suppose, to some.

But I really really love November. It’s when the skies turn gray, the corn fields are golden stubble, and stark trees wave dark lacy branches. The palette turns soft and subtle. After a month of riotous color, quiet begins to slip in.

And I do love me some quiet.

Before we launch into this new month of celebration, a reflection on November and the fog, snow, super-moons, and beauty I managed to notice these past 30 days:

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