November Light

Portage Trail

It’s hard to explain. It’s hard to describe. But there’s just something different about the light at this time of the year. The angle of the sun, maybe? It feels almost like a perpetual “golden hour,” as long as there are no clouds to obscure the effect.

I’ve been eating it up, drinking it up, scooping it up and stuffing it into my pockets.

Portage Trail

I prepared myself for a really hard, biting November. But it hasn’t been nearly as difficult as I expected it would be. My surprisingly Nice November continues. And today, I’m in awe of the beauty in this time of the year.

Living Room of the Bryce House in November Light

My friend Claire recently shared a poem that reflects this beautifully:


You can grieve the leaves stripped
from the maple, all that emptyย 
space between bare branches,
or you can bless the abundance
of light shining through, buffing
the pine boards of the floor until
they turn the color of clover honey.
You can mourn the coneflowers
now shriveled and brown, say
the whole world’s gone to ruin,
or you can stand at the window
watching the lively yellow blossom
of a goldfinch feasting on each
crown of seeds, sending more than
a few back home, down into
the open ground, which knows
how to receive them.

James Crewsย [Instagram post link]

I honestly don’t know how much my current experience of November is the result of choices I’m making versus external circumstances that are helping. But I’m grateful, either way.

This entry was posted in Health, Home, Introspection, Kent, Photography, Recreation, Seasonal Depression. Bookmark the permalink.

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