Sometimes I have trouble with your ever-encroaching, increasingly ominous darkness. It makes me want to curl up and hibernate from the first of your days to the end of January's. Mercifully, our woodland fills me with a sense of anticipation that combats my mounting dread and provides a wondrous balance to your dwindling light. Though the nights fall earlier and earlier, our landscape opens up more every day.
As in a theater, when the curtain rises, and one by one, star players appear, the purpley-blue mountains are making their grand entrances. To the east, the Green Mountains rise, and to the west, the Taconics emerge. To the north, a smattering of mountains make themselves known through the newly leafless woods. It's a breathtaking seasonal performance, and it thrills me every single year.
Welcome, November. Welcome, mountains!