On the very first night of the month, October gave a show. The winds blew stormy clouds in, teasing of rain that never came. They poured over the setting sun, like a host of spirits returning from the dead, and then danced out of the valley again as the sky grew dark. October sure knows how to make an entrance.
"All things on earth point home in old October: sailors to sea, travelers to walls and fences, hunters to field and hollow and the long voice of the hounds, the lover to the love he has forsaken."
- Thomas Wolfe