"November is the pearl-grey month, the changeling between warm crimson October and cold white December; the month when the leaves fall in slow drifting whirls and the shapes of the trees are revealed. When the earth imperceptibly wakes and stretches her bare limbs and displays her stubborn unconquerable strength before she settles uneasily into winter. November is secret and silent." --Alison Uttley
"It was
November–the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the
sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys
in the park, and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out
of her soul." --L.M. Montgomery
