Back from a lightning-quick jaunt to Pennsylvania on business, which gave me some unexpected time to enjoy the weather back East. November has always been one of my favorite months. Funny, ’cause I’ve never been much of a Thanksgiving fan – everything just gets too crazy, and some of the obligatory Thanksgiving visits we’ve had to make over the years to avoid offending in-laws and such (three horrendous visits to Augusta, ME and my former brother-in-law’s place come to mind) have made that holiday one of my least favorite.

But November in the Northeast after the leaves have started to fall or have fallen is a time I have always treasured. Chilly nights, the smell of woodstoves from neighboring houses, cozy restaurants and bars to hook up with friends at, solitary walks through pine needle and leaf-strewn woods, and the crisp, clean smell of the air all provide a lift to my spirit. November was my favorite time of year for monastic retreats at West Park, NY’s Holy Cross Monastery, and I’ll always remember bright, chilly days spent on the banks of the steel-gray Hudson meditating on the season and all the beauty around me.

There’s really no such thing as November in Arizona – oh sure, the calendar SAYS it’s November, and all the bills seem to arrive on time OK with their November due dates prominently displayed, but the weather kinda ruins it for me. Seems more like a warm Northeast May or early June, as far as I’m concerned. Sure, the endless Chamber of Commerce-like bright, sunny days of temps in the low-to-mid ’80s and nights in the ’60s are why people live here or why the snowbirds come down here to winter, but to me it just seems as if the weather is TOO perfect. But I guess that’s just the New Englander in me talking.