This region’s fabled autumn foliage – the shimmery tartan blanket that hugs the hills every October – is gone. And so now, on the cusp of America’s election month, it’s impossible to ignore the pending change of season. With the approach of what Robert Frost, this vital swing state’s most beloved poet, characterized in his poem My November Guest as the “dark days of autumn rain,” the race for the White House is reaching its weary conclusion. It enters its last full week Monday.
Discover content from The Globe and Mail that you might otherwise not have come across. Here we’ll provide you with fresh suggestions where we will continue to make even better ones as we get to know you better.
You can let us know if a suggestion is not to your liking by hitting the ‘’ close button to the right of the headline.