Oh, November.... I didn't think it would ever happen, but you've managed to woo me.
It seems like a slate grey, dreary month sandwiched between two colourful, magical ones. Or at least, that is what November used to feel like. This year feels beautifully different.
There is still a riot of colour outside. Fall came late to my neck of the woods. And so, I can still weave myself between the trees, watch the leaves fall ever so gracefully and pretend it is still my beloved October. I had a hard time letting go this year. So it goes with most things in my life... I get too attached. But, as much as I love to bundle myself in the warmth of all that colour as I do my morning mountain climb, I turn away from it when my camera is in my hands. For the first time in a very long time, I find myself accepting November just as is.
I like the grey. I'm drawn to the pale pastel hues of an understated month. I am waiting for the sun to resign itself to the fog, so I can see the world in indistinct lines and soft shapes, and feel the hush of the earth as it prepares to sleep.
Stillness is what I crave. A little bit of down time before the holly jolly, making merry mayhem sets in.
So, November, I stand with open arms to you... accepting your quiet gifts... sheepishly wishing I had been more grateful in years past.