November greys

(Nimue)

In my part of the world, November can be a relentlessly grey month. As the autumn leaves fall, or are stripped away by storms, it often feels like there’s a sudden loss of colour from the world. The clocks have changed so there’s a leap in terms of how much earlier it gets dark and at the same time we’re heading towards the solstice and the longest night. There’s a lot of darkness still to come. While I very much appreciate darkness, it is certainly possible to have too much of it.

It’s also often a wet month – it certainly is this year. Heavy rain makes it harder to get out and thus reduces opportunities to encounter what colour is still out there. I know there’s a theory that goes there is no bad weather, only bad clothing, but good clothing costs money and not everyone can afford it. Wet clothing needs drying and can cause all sorts of problems. The kinds of storms we’re getting are beyond what my decent but ordinary coats can handle.

There are small beauties to be found even on the greyest days. The bright reds of hips and haws. The vibrant tones in fallen leaves will be with us a little longer. There are still flowers out there – and although climate chaos is making that more common, there have always been odd outliers. Cyclamen are in bloom and are a treasure to find. There are migrant birds to watch form and views open up where the leaves have gone from the trees.

When human use grey it’s often depressing and feels with cold, or lifeless. Grey in nature is a soft and interesting thing. Dove grey, pigeon grey, heron grey. They greys of rocks, skies, tree bark and slushy ice have their own beauty.