“Here I sit, altogether Novemberish, a damn’d mélange of Fretfulness & melancholy; not enough of the one to rouse me to passion; nor of the other to repose me in torpor; my soul flouncing and fluttering around her tenement, like a wild Finch caught amid the horrors of winter newly thrust into a cage.”
– Robert Burns, 1793
Ditch the Umbrella 
I went for a bike ride at twilight last night. It was cold, I was out of sorts and resented the unnatural color of the green reflectors I felt I had to wear. After a couple of hills I warmed up enough to look around. A low yellow sky, bare trees, a man raking, fallen leaves blowing and twisting… Suddenly I was excited about this late fall season, it seemed full of promise and nostalgia at the same time. And the faster I rode the more I felt I was drinking something delicious that must be savored because it would not last.
Lovely.