The world takes on a metallic shine in November. There’s a fair amount of brown, yes, but as I write this, the sun is behind big clouds, and they’re ablaze silver-white by its power. The leaves that remain are gold and bronze, and the wind makes them wink like coins in the sunlight. In fields and along roads, many of the deceased wildflowers and grasses are flaxen. Have you ever noticed how dry cornstalks shimmer in autumn rays? No matter the daylight hour, the slant of the sun makes it feel like either mid morning or early evening. These are gilded days.
With a steep reduction in farm work, gorgeous weather, AND the addition of a four-legged family member (see photos below!), I’ve been lucky enough to take a few pleasant strolls this month. What a joy to walk under falling leaves! And have you ever attempted to catch a leaf as it falls? It’s physically impossible to try without smiling.
I have a memory from last October that still makes me smile. I was standing on a little hill beside the road, waiting for a truck full of compost to rumble up so I could point the driver toward the farm. It was one of those golden autumn afternoons, with blue skies and bright sun. Warm gusts swept leaves off the ground and scattered them all around. All the sudden, a surge of wind came up the road, a few hundred feet away. It lifted thousands of leaves from the packed dirt and rushed them up the hill. It was like a marathon, with the tiny dry runners turning end over end, racing my way. Are they really going to make it all the way up the hill? I wondered. Yes! It looked like they would! I watched with delight as they clattered up the hill, and raced right in front of me, tumbling another hundred feet before coming to rest or scattering into the ditch. I’d never seen anything quite like it. I’ve seen leaves tumble about, of course, but never in such a synchronized way. The Running of the Leaves. The Leaf Marathon. Those leaves will run for a long time in my memory.
In November, when most of the trees are bare, and the gusts tear through the woods, the last brown leaves are pulled stories high into the air. Our kitchen has a good view of the sky, and we can watch the leaves swirl like confetti, far into the distance.
On my walk the other day, such a gust carried leaves in a current above my head. They sailed parallel to the road, and it was like I was on the bottom of a river, watching swift-swimming fish above me.
November is holding on to the very last leaves now. Around the same time she lets them go, we’ll have to let all of our unfinished farm tasks go, too. I don’t mind watching the final leaves rock to the ground. I am ready to let go for the season, too.
~ Stella
Now, a few photos - and meet LUNA!!!
