(This post was originally published at Sweet Amaranth in 2015.)
It’s November, and autumn’s bright leaves are turning brown and slick after several weeks of constant drizzle. The hot, bright, dry summer is a distant memory now, and the Seattle gloom is in full swing.
It’s been colder than I’d like, given that it’s not even winter yet, but (aided by daily doses of vitamin D) I’m rather enjoying the gloom. The fog drapes soft blankets across the mountain ridges and shelters each valley in its own privacy. It’s the season for coffee, for trying the maple tea I bought in Vancouver, for leg warmers (yes, they’re back) and scarves and orange and brown and crimson.
Bright pine needles resting on the branches of a blue spruce
I spent an hour wandering outside with shoes sinking into the earth, enjoying a break in the rain and some brief sunshine. The soil is reveling in the renewed moisture, sending up shoots of tender green despite the lateness of the year.
Vines on a trellis perking up after the long, hot summer
A terra cotta saucer filled with rainwater
Japanese maple leaves
Since we moved to Alcove House this summer, I’ve been busy and haven’t had time to explore the neighborhood thoroughly. It means that every time I step out, I find something new, like these whorls and lines and burls.
A swirling pattern in wood burls and moss
Our resident redwood is one of the stars of the moment; its intense color demands attention as its surroundings turn softer and browner and fall away into winter decay.
Bright redwood bark and heartwood on a drizzly day
How has your autumn been so far?