The Autumn that stops us in wonder with its orange and crimson splendor only lasts a moment. But these endless days of grey and brown? Those are the true colors of autumn. Brown and grey, as far as you can see.
November feels lost between seasons. Not yet winter, and no longer the crisp wonder of fall.
And yet, even in this time, there is beauty to be found. It speaks more softly than the boisterous beauty of full color, so you must move slowly so you don't startle it away. This is the beauty of texture and line and the unexpected complexity of this monotone world between seasons.
Even in the bleakness of November, there is beauty to be found.
If only we are determined to looking beyond the grayness and find the color underneath.
One thought on “Between seasons”
This is so beautifully written, Rachel. I always felt that November was a forgotten month between seasons, too, and then my first child was born early in the month. Now, it is one of my favourite times of year. Funny how a little spin on previously held thought can transform the mundane into the extraordinary.