People name babies April, May, June and August (from Latin: grand), but not November. And it’s no wonder. November in a word: stark. If it were a crayon: grey. October’s brilliant yellows dissolve into brown crinkles on the pavement and trees are left shivering black skeletons. But this Iowa afternoon defines anomaly (divergence from what is usual or expected). On my walk: lawns July green, skies September blue. November, you’re nearly name worthy.
