November, it's a bit like going to bed with the knowledge of a bright and wonderfully adventurous night ahead. November, it's like the cosy warmth of a bed surrounded by the ambient light of candles lit for reading. November, it's like turning the ever surprising pages of a cherished book. November, it's like thinking back to an afternoon spent in the earthy smell of garden work, planting the seeds, both literally and figuratively, of a colorful spring. November, it's like an empty month waiting to be filled with deep inspiration and grandiose intuition.
November, it's like a pastel colored IncrediMail letter waiting to be filled with inspired words and intuitive prose: