The Subtle Beauty of November

An appreciation and appraisal

November is a subtle month.

The trees take on a quiet beauty, very different from the flashy brilliance of October. Brick red, mustard yellow, bronze and copper are the hues of November, punctuated with the greens of pines and spruce.

By the end of November most of the trees have dropped their leaves. But like a miser hoarding his pile of rusty pennies, the oaks retain their lifeless brown leaves, often until the following spring.

Short November days are often grey, and the sunlight meager. The heavy, felted clouds make the sky feel closer and more oppressive. Yet sometimes November may reward us with a sky of vivid blue, empty of everything except a flock of boastful crows.

Wild grasses have mostly turned tan or dusty brown. Ferns and wildflowers have toppled and withered. Every gust of wind scatters dead leaves like nervous mice along the road.

Yet there is a peacefulness to November. The pushing, thrusting life of plants and many animals is coming to an end, for the year. Time to withdraw from the battle, find some safe spot, and wait out the winter.

Yes, November is a subtle month with its own pensive beauty. But not everyone feels appreciation for this month!

The 19th century poet Thomas Hood once wrote: “ …No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, No comfortable feel in any member-No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees. No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds! November!”