I always want to capture this moment and hide it away somewhere to pull it out later.

The quiet of mid-November. It’s the season of contemplation, the greyness of slight regret but not despondency, an awareness of waiting and soon-to-come anticipation.

After the giddy joy of summer and before the busy gayness of the holiday season, the whole world seems contemplative.

Closing up, going in.

The trees are no longer showing off blossoms or pretty leaves. But they are also not decked with the finery of ice and snow or twinkle lights yet either.

I savor the taste of quiet nostalgia and pull my sweater up to my face as I walk briskly enjoying the bright burst of evening sunset.

Something is coming. It’s just over the horizon.

But for now, it’s the season of contemplation. And I am content.