deep in the frosty hedgerow this morningand rustling like voluminous robes of antique silk
a solitary, rare and elegant red is dancing.
oh wind be still, that I may know this red
and remember its mindful dance in winter
Last year around this time, I was (I think) doing much the same thing in much the same way and much the same place, rambling the verges of the village with Cassie a little after sunrise and feasting our eyes on colour whenever we were fortunate enough to find it.
Colour is a rare commodity in the north at this grey time of year and something to be treasured. November's eye is ever passionate and always on the lookout for vibrant colour, indeed for any sort of colour at all: red, gold, orange or russet.
This morning, there was a fine November nip in the air as we pottered about and peered into the murky shrubbery and long shadows in search of colour. Eccentric and tatterdemalion seekers are we, but oh so contented in our travels, and particularly so when we discover red.
5 comments:
Yes, those beautiful colors in November are so warm, and go straight to the heart. We too walk on our little patch of earth, looking for the thing that will catch our eyes and make us glad to be out, even in the cold.
Red has always been a rare, precious and sacred color.
Yes! I saw some blue-grey-silver berries on a bush in the meadow near our house. Arresting. I had the same thought: remember this color for the next few months.
"Eccentric and tatterdemalion seekers... oh so contented in our travels." love these words... Especially when we "discover red."
What a wonderful post!
Your poem moved me, quieted me.
I enjoy seeing those little bits of color too. Identifying berries and buds is one way to train the eye to see more this time of year.
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