November

November is beautiful. Having said that, I am probably one of maybe 2 people who would say that. November's beauty is in browns and grays of earth and sky. A field of corn, just a few months ago emerald green, now stands tall and tawny, with dried leaves rustling in the cool northerly breeze. Fields where soybeans grew are brown and naked, harvested of their yield. Add to these the colors of leaves drying on the ground and all the flowers of the fields- all brown, but in such hues and shades that to name them all one color is just as much a disservice as describing them by one color in any other season. So, too, does the sky on many days seem low and gray- but silver, or pewter, or with a touch of blue? The earth prepares to rest and calls us to do the same. As I empty my gardens of the impatiens I planted in the spring, and put away my trowels, spades and garden gloves, I look forward to the cool days ahead where I can be like the earth and slow down. This past weekend I cleaned and arranged my winter place upstairs, where I will spend happy hours reading good books, drinking a glass of wine, and enjoying the fragrance of incense and candles. On a recent evening I was blading on my trail surrounded by fields and sky- all alone except for running deer, scampering rabbits and geese flying above. As the sun set, I stopped and watched until the last sliver of light had fallen behind the autumn fields. Then I set out again as dusk came on and the shadows grew, filling my heart with the quiet and peace of the November evening.