For some reason, November almost always sends me off on a nostalgic journey to my husband’s hometown of Graettinger. That’s in the northwest corner of the state, not far from Spencer, Okoboji, and the Minnesota border. Maybe it’s because it was at this time of year that we became aware that winter was near at hand (and, believe me, winter in that part of the state is definitely a thing to remain aware of). Maybe it was the pheasant hunting that got us there every year, in the days before everybody farmed right out to the road. There were fence rows then, and cover for the birds.