Falling for November

November. November. November. 

The loveliest-sounding month of all the months.  If I were to name a child after a month, this would be it.   November is the mature autumn. The fall that comes after the excitement, the glitz and candy shock of widely-beloved October. November is subdued, demure, calming and lovely.  The chill is inviting, softly beckoning to breathe, to meditate, to reflect.  Visions of maize and gourds and cornucopias dance in our head. If October is the debut, November is the finale as we watch reds turn to oranges turn to yellows turn to browns. Leaves glittering on still-green grass like jewels in a velvet box.   In October everyone just plays fall, costumed in plaid and boots, picking out performance pumpkins.  In November we settle into autumn authenticated. In November, we partake.

A regularly scheduled romance, I fall into November every time.