A few leaves are still hanging around the forest. Most of those are on the very tops of the trees. The under-canopy of the trees and the understory of the forest are largely bare of leaves or cover right now.
The sky is taking on that deeper blue shade of winter. I’ve never quite known if it’s the lessened humidity or the sun’s angle that creates the shade, but the summer sky is never this color. It’s only November that brings a blue as deep as a sapphire, even in the early mornings.
For the past few days I heard Canada geese almost every time I step outside. Some are migrants. Some are the locals feeling the pull of autumn even though they won’t head south. Something, probably something they don’t even understand, draws them into the air and sets them to that high, keening call even if they are just flying down the mountain or over to the next pond.
The evenings here at the cabin are chilly, and night’s dampness seeps through my clothes, no matter what I’m wearing. The days warm up nicely, though are often accompanied by a breeze that limits a true appreciation of the temperature. Still, this is the kind of weather that requires me to start the day wearing several layers of clothing that are usually shed by midday.
November is good weather for outside work. I can work hard without sweating off gallons of myself, and it’s not yet so cold that I have to work for an hour before I feel comfortably warm. There’s a lot good to be said for a month like that. November has its own kind of pleasures.