NMK JOY!
What Do I Know?
Montaigne’s essays are based on this question. Being the first person to write for the public about his life, documenting and asking questions, but not providing definitive answers, ‘What do I know?’ seems to have been the question that pervades his work.
These ‘essays’, or writings, or musings are in a similar vein. I’m simply taking observations or questions and writing toward coherence. That doesn’t mean any of it is true or worthwhile. But perhaps there’s an occasional bit that resonates, as they say.
What do I know?
November
Well known as the dreariest month, at least in Vermont, maybe the northern hemisphere, maybe the world. Well known for its grayness. However, if you consult a color selector, you’ll find myriad of grays! Warm grays, cool grays, dull grays, bright grays (really), light grays, dark grays, blue grays, green grays, and everything in between.
So, looking out on this November day, there are lots of grays; in the sky - light, dark, nearly white, nearly blue, nearly purple; in the hillsides - greenish, redish, purplish, nothingish; in the tree barks - birch, maple, ash, beech, lilac, all with their own tint and tints, and with their tints melting into each other and into the clouds. And flicker of real blue, but really a jay of real blue, searching for seeds still hanging about.
On closer viewing, some bark has hints of violet, some of yellow and even some blues, particularly somehow in the shade, particularly in the birches. And, indeed, more colors are out there this November day. Remnants of last season, not last fall but summer. The few hanging on leaves - tan, darker brown, splashes of yellow and ochre, a good vibrant earthy color, highlights of native rock colors. And the serious hangers on; leaves still green, though drooping, drooping in the cold; some brighter and lighter, often attributable to invasive species. Looking closely, some twigs show evidence of recent growth with buds shouting orange and red and how am I going to survive?; pale ivory of dried grasses and leftover, drying blossoms; red berries calling to the birds - eat me, spread me, I’m the future.
November, the hunker down month, but readying for both winter and then spring to come. Nature working away, just like that bluejay!