The view from my front door has been daunting, dramatic, rather often lately. November.
Big winds. Prodigious rains. And stormy seas that drew me and my camera to the beach one morning last week.
I miss summer’s ease. Such a short while ago I sat in those chairs with my bare toes resting on the tree-stump stools. Or paddled ’round the island on a sunny morning.
Instead, now, I hunker down in my pyjamas and bathrobe, my moccasins soaking up moisture from the wet ground, and I admire the stormy show, a fairly mild one as storms go.
Colours, contrasts of texture, a wild range of sounds — swooshes and thuds and slurping susurrations.
Salty fragrance and energizing ozone.
And the energy of that rushing water to study, to memorize, perhaps to imitate in some pale, pale way.
I must admit that November is not my favourite month. Autumn it may be, but it’s when I retroactively hear the death knell of summer ringing clear, after I’ve denied it for weeks and weeks. It’s when I really begin to brace for Winter, admit that I need gloves every day and should always have a scarf ready and better pack a hat in case it’s pouring on my bike ride home. . . .
But November does offer some magnificent weather if you like dark and broody, grey and dramatic. And you might like to remember what Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote about it, a sonnet all its own. I’ve posted it before, several times, but you can never have too much Millay, can you?
That sea looks scarily close to your house. Do you ever get inundated?
We do get salt spray on the front windows, but even at the highest tides and biggest storms, we are high and dry.
I love the dark and broody – but on the other hand where I live the sky is crayon blue all too often. Those photos make me want to be right there, cup of tea in hand, hair whipping in the wind.
Well, you get that brooding evocative fog….
Oh that stormy weather does make for difficult boat travel….it also makes walking awkward. I am with Lisa, wanting to cocoon with a cup of tea!
Take care when crossing on the ferry.
It does make walking more difficult, but now we've got different rather on the way, a dip in the temps ahead…
I do love the sea especially from the safety of a warm cosy house – what a wonderful view you have to enjoy every day! November started out here masquerading as Autumn but has now shown its true colours and it is cold and wet so we are hunkering down with the wood burning stove and a good book! My least favourite month is January, I think.
Cold and wet makes the stove and a good book that much more appealing. Enjoy!
That view from your doorway! What a beautiful part of the world you live in. I don't mind November because it means it really is almost winter – you can't fool yourself that it is just the beginning of autumn. Outside it is Bonfire Night here in England and fireworks are going off all around me. It all smells so very dark and chilly…It's is February I don't like.
Yes, November feels like the real thing, no more pretending. . . Thanks for describing the Bon fire, fireworks, the drama in the dark, chilly English night. Fun to picture it, across the distance
Wow – those photos are NOT placid! (But still gorgeous.) I hate November. IMO, it's the worst month of the year. Even February is better.
Yep, I def. prefer February to Novembef
I'm not really a fan of this weather. It's so dark and so grey. The thrashing seas would be fun to watch from a cozy perch with a cup of tea to hand.
Exactly!
Dramatic beauty! I like November, so stark in its beauty. I grew up on a large body of water- the Great Lakes, and each season brings a new majesty. A seascape is fascinating no matter what the time of year.
It's true, isn't it? So much variety in a seascape, through the seasons…
As Lear would say:
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulph'rous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world…
But you have to recite this standing at the water's edge with a giant fist hammering skywards. Wonderful! – if you can get in the mood, that is.
Somehow I can just imagine you down at English Bay, hollering this at the sky…
I enjoyed the Millay reprint. The reading of it, along with your photos, puts me in a reflective, but energized, mood. I'm ready to build a fire and settle in for a much-needing planning session for the busy days ahead.
Yes! The trip-planning! So exciting as the departure date draw near…
Love Milay's poetry. And, actually, love November storms. Coming home in the dark early evening to the smells of dinner cooking and a fire in the fireplace….and a bottle of read wine "breathing" on the countertop.
Make that red wine….not read wine… although maybe I'll curl up in front of the fire after supper for a good read.
Hope you had a lovely evening with your read and your wine…
Gorgeous photos, but not sure I could handle that much grayness, especially on a bike. On the other hand it is so gorgeous other times of the year. How is the ferry ride in this weather?
Lynn
It can be a rough ride, especially in the dark, but the boats are lifeboat-solid, and there's a happy camaraderie among us as we bounce the waves together….
I agree with Duchesse. As long as you can look across the water – lake or sea – any weather is beautiful. Provided you are protected from the cold. As for worst month of the year, I think that November is pretty bad because there is less light every day and I know this is going to continue for quite some time. On the other hand, I always feel bad and exhausted in February or early March, when I have spent all my energy to get through winter, the batteries are down and spring just won't arrive.
Thanks for the link to the poem. I had never heard of that poet before. All the things I am learning through your blog….
Glad you enjoyed the poem. Millay had a fascinating life, although a rather sad end, some tough years.