"October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy drafts that bit at exposed hands and faces." | J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
It was November--the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hyms of the sea, passionate wind--songs in the pines." | L. M. Montgomery
I'm nearly desperate this morning for a the mountains, or a small new England town--the trees aflame with that wondrous orange. Instead I will settle for the very lucky option that is Manhattan and give thanks that a full and good month awaits me. It really is my favorite time of the year, this autumnal season with it's cool breezes and silent rhythms. It is a season in-between. A held breath. And hopeful anticipation.