Palette (#135)
Often simply characterized by preparations for the glitter and green of December, November is a vastly underrated feast for the eyes.
Do you ever stop to think about how beautiful November is?
It seems like a strange thing to say.
Where I live, landscapes become bare in the days following Halloween - trees barely hanging on to their last leaves, like towels clutched to startled bodies. There seems to be more precipitation: Not the gently falling snow that makes my neighbours’ burgeoning holiday scenes morph into large-scale snow globes, but thin pelts that needle into our cheeks and soft bellies, making us hurry to the next doorway or their car.
The wind picks up, coating the outside walls in a thin frosty breath. When I go for walks now, a crispy maple lace trails and swirls behind invisible robes that drag along the asphalt. Back in the house, I turn to warmer recipes, thicker sweaters; I unearth the collection of quilts and throws to balance rising thermostats.
This can sound like hell, if you miss the warm breezes and smells of sea salt and blooms. And sure, I do, too.
But I love the palette that nature uses in November.
Winter can be fun, but the decor too modern and minimalistic: Bright whites and blues, stark lines and sharp shadows.
Spring, especially with those early sentinel days of warming grounds and skies, is marked by acid: Jarring bursts of new jade buds on trees that, with the rain, do much to scrub away the previous season’s dirt (the result of efforts to keep roadways clear of ice and snow).
Then, as summer begins to yawn and stretch endlessly before us, the paint box opens up. Deep emeralds swaying in the warm breeze, bleached sand and stones along the water; both, calming. It’s hard to ignore or find displeasure in the art emerging over hazy days.
And sure, one would easily think that early autumn is my favourite, given my tendency to marvel about the fireworks of maple and birch. But that’s all they are: A spectacular light show enjoyable in small doses.
November, though? The stark, steel blues of the ocean, the concrete, the sky; how it contrasts so well against the rusts of the remaining bushes and baring branches.
I love this palette the most.
What about you? Is November a liminal space between holidays or something beautiful in its’ own right?
Your pictures, Bryn, are gorgeous, but the words you've used to describe autumn - and November in particular - are even more so. A stunning post! 🍁
Around DC, we get bright spots in November - brilliant yellow gingko trees. I love them, and I love when they shed their leaves all at once and cover the ground with gold