November, when the days are grey, but looking out of my window all I see is orange, as the horse chestnut tree is ablaze with autumn leaves.
November, when it's not quite acceptable to play Christmas tunes on the radio, but it's perfectly alright to play Christmas compilations at home.
November, when anticipation hangs heavy in the air, along with the rawness that indicates winter is on its way.
November, when we almost bought a house, only to watch it fall through, like a single dried up leaf, because someone else offered more than we could afford.
November, when the year is almost at an end, and we begin to take stock.
November, often overlooked, but pleasant in its own way, bleak and beautiful...