November

There is something softly comforting about an autumn night. Every breath teasing your nostrils with light numbness, a sign of the season to come.
Many consider fall to be nothing more than an interim between nature's featured acts, but to me, it's just the opposite. Autumn holds the best New Hampshire has. The cold is manageable but has enough bite to remind of where you are. You'll see the flakes begin to fall, but the shovel can stay in the garage for now. And of course, there is the cliched beauty of the foliage. You know it's coming. It's as reliable as the flatlanders coming up to steal a piece of the mountains. Yet there is always that one maple that takes you by surprise. That one tree that that takes its time, igniting in a burst of bright yellow before smoldering for weeks through orange and red and dying with grace as a deep burgundy.
But halloween has passed and the tree is bare, barely visible at night. A November walk after dark is be more peaceful than any sleep. It allows you to connect with the fleeting season for just a little longer. It is something to be treasured and I couldn't be happier to oblige.