Wednesday, November 20, 2013
The forest around me is preparing for winter. The life of the forest and the surrounding landscape is sinking into the ground, safe below the surface, to hibernate there until spring. What’s seen above the ground is almost uniformly brown, with the shades varying from pale beige to the deepest color of espresso.
The dying of summer’s greenery puts the land in sharper relief. What was hidden by a shield of foliage is visible again. Only the skeletons of summer remain. The earth seems to be taking a breath or perhaps holdings its breath. Pre-winter is quiet, a respite between the glory of autumn and the stresses of winter.
I like this time of year, this pre-winter of November, when I can actually feel the landscape slow down and prepare for slumber. Nothing is hidden during this time—not by snow or leaves. Everything stands in stark relief. Even the rolling of the hills stands out more. It’s a pretty time of year, I think, though not showy like October (well, most Octobers).