November is always a dismal month for us gardeners. Here, on the Lower Mainland it is wet, cold, damp, and dark. Evening encroaching like a thug, towards the dull windows, blocking the natural light earlier, and earlier. Even if there is a rare burst of sun during these November days, the clouds seem to press in, the darkness feels like a smudge on your glasses, that can't be wiped away. Don't glance in the corners, the darkness is hiding there. Certainly not a time to think of gardening, and Christmas not yet ready to take our mind off of the wickedness of winter. But each day brings us closer to spring. Each gloom encrusted, dripping with condensation day, means we are one day closer to spring. Spring, that burst of green, the scent of the living. A rebirth of joy and optimism in our hearts. Our reward for slogging through a winter's worth of snow, or rain. So hang on tight, soon the carousel of Christmas will begin, the whirlwind of partying and excess, followed by the slimming diet of denial, and then, just when you think that you can't take it any longer, it will be spring. I promise.