On this Friday morning, the first day of November, during an early run, the gray elegance of the dawn slowly emerged as the filmy blackness of night gradually retreated westward, revealing a thick blanket of low lying gray clouds shrouding the morning sky. The air was incredibly mild, more reminiscent of an early June morn than an early November morn, but a blustery wind was blowing throughout my journey as I moved along a rustic bike path, through some marshlands and around Spy Pond. And the blustery winds created a symphony of graceful movement in the natural world around me: gray clouds, of varying shades and shapes, danced across the heavens toward the distant horizon; fallen leaves, brown and crumpled, swirled through the mild air and danced across the brown and muddy earth; barren and tangled tree branches, now largely shorn of their foliage, gently swayed in the wind; and the ancient waters of Spy Pond, as well as the marsh waters in the marshlands, rippled and swelled as the winds blew across the surface of the waters. And, with the gray heavens in the high background and barren trees in the foreground, the black silhouettes of several birds soared through the air and the imagery, the gray heavens, the brown trees, and the black birds, along with the crumpled leaves swirling ad twirling through the air, bespoke November.
Posted on: Fri, 01 Nov 2013 15:23:55 +0000
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