November Shadows

When the days shorten and shadows lengthen, I remember the verse from Charles Baudelaire’s “Song of Autumn” (1857), “I love the green light of your long eyes.”

On our property, even in mid-afternoon, the shadows of a building and distant trees stretch across the fields.

Hawks and kites often perch in this dead tree.

The pond is not at full capacity, but there is some water in it. In past years, it has sometimes stayed dry year-round, but for the past few years, we have gotten occasional rain, so it usually looks like a pond.

These tiny white flowers grow along the fences in summer and here, remnants are visible. I think they are prairie fleabane (Erigeron strigosus) in the Asteraceae family, but I am not completely sure.

Wei walks around the property with me. In summer, the weeds are high, making it hard for both of us, but especially for him. I always look forward to late fall when growth slows, and it’s easy to walk through the fields.

Autumn is subtle here but also gentle. There’s no vivid colors, because the oak and mulberry leaves fade to brown before they drop. The grass gradually dies off as the temperature cools, so that the colors fade from green to brown. At the same time, there’s usually no harsh winter waiting around the corner. Sometimes my January walks seem much like my November walks. The life in our grasses is tiny and homogenous, and takes quiet time to notice. Whenever I bend down to take photos of tiny withered plants, I hear subtle rustling under the thatch of flattened grass that covers the ground, which is probably field mice. Sometimes, I have waited long enough to see them venture out and do whatever it is they’re doing, or I’ve felt them surge where I was kneeling.

November Shadows

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