It finally feels and smells like November the last two days. A week’s worth of balmy weather was a delight, but it did not fit what we know about our eleventh month. In 2019, it was bracingly cold—brutally so at times. The year before seemed just as frigid.
Yesterday, the temperatures dropped and brooding clouds hung low over the mountaintops. There was a return of that old, familiar rawness. This morning, though, the clouds fled, at least for a while, and brisk winds buffeted us during our forest miles, leaving aged trees creaking and groaning in its wake. A striking blue sky watched over us and we were bathed in a hopeful dance of golden light and stretched shadows.
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