Late fall equals perpetual twilight in Scandinavia.
Our days have lost about ten hours since the summer solstice and this can certainly be perceived.
Yet as always, even the darkness brings moments of absolute enchantment.
If the weather conditions are right, over the course of the next couple of months, I will be once again granted the privilege to watch stunning sunrises as I set out on my daily commute.
Below is a selection of crayola skies - alluring works of art painted by an unseen artist upon dawn, as they passed my windows in recent mornings, dispersing momentarily the feel of everlasting dusk.
Fall is slowly concluding and the fiery glow of the ostentatious season is now only a memory. Instead, the outlines of trees stand naked, dark and ominous against a milky sky, their branches damp and still, resembling almost menacing silhouettes.
The remains of foliage and long gone bloom turns putrefied, instigating a sense of decay.
Late fall melancholy is by now truly apparent. To me it comes across as an intermission, a moment of stillness and tranquility that stands between the flamboyance of colours and the illumination of the Holiday Season.
I have been somewhat absent, in my writing and in my on-line life, for which I apologize. I do still ponder the bigger questions and I do still notice the enchantment around me, I only need more time to convey it in words and pictures to all of you you.
There are continuously issues that occupy my thinking, such as the fact that I find myself increasingly disenchanted with my line of work, a sensation that started a couple of years back and which only grows in intensity by each passing day.
I find this puzzling - that which once defined me and brought me happiness feels now as a burden and has lost its allure all together.
Is it midlife crises, I wonder, or is it I who have changed...
I feel a deep longing to realize old dreams, using my creative abilities, devoting what remains of my working life to an occupation that is novel and better suited the new me.
Curiously, life never works fully on all levels - if it did, I guess we would be done living it.
My reality evolves constantly and for someone who has lived by predictable routines for decades, I find the ongoing growth curiously reassuring. My husband's children are spending increasing amount of time with us, which changes the dynamic of our lives. It is a challenge on all levels, as I am thrown into parenthood of three teenagers, having never hold them in my arms as babies. Trying to be their friend and guardian and yet at the same time guiding them with gentle but firm rules as a stepmother is a balancing act of a novel kind. Yet as I refine my skills, the rewards are of indescribable measures - they are the children I will never have and their love and devotion surpasses all my expectations.
A move to a new house is now slowly becoming reality and soon we will be finally having a home of our very own where we can live as a family, with a sense of privacy and safe continuity. Thus as I look out onto our misty garden, I wonder whether this is the last November noir I am witnessing outside my windows in this old house. So much emotions and changes has undergone between its walls in such a short time. I know I will miss it in a certain way...
Nature is indeed winding down. It is entering a deep sleep, discarding the old and shriveled, renewing itself from within, in order to emerge reborn and revitalized a few months down the road.
This is a contagious rejuvenation, that applies to everything living, us humans too. Most likely when winter turns into spring, my own life will be reborn in a new place.
Late fall is in my perception always defined by one single masterpiece; Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21.
Thus when I look into the mist, I can hear piano and strings of violins, giving the melancholy of November a truly poetic, symbolic and almost meditative feel.
Taking a walk along the pristine beaches in the proximity of my home, I am once again reminded of the incredible power of the North Sea.
Watching the surf, the crushing waves bring to mind the run of wild horses, untamed animals in all their feral beauty.
The arctic wind, the salty aerosol, the incredibly enchanting sights of colours and shapes, the roaring sound - they all are the make up of an awe invoking allure of nature.
Yet walking there, hand in hand with a lover, one can not imagine a warmer and safer place...
(All images here taken this week at the North Sea, during our short, romantic getaway.:)
November comes across as a very nostalgic month.
In my native language it carries a poetic name, loosely translated as leaf-fall. Indeed, during the next few weeks, our trees will be robbed of their ornate attire, until they stand bare, instigating a sense of sadness, almost melancholy.
This penultimate month of the year makes me feel as if we are standing between seasons.
Autumn is slowly concluding and the fiery colours are vanishing, being replaced by grey scale and monochrome. The daylight turns into twilight and the dry air becomes cold, damp and misty.
However, as winter closes in, once in a while we wake up to a subtle platinum dawn, revealing frozen landscape - that first preview of what is to come a few weeks down the road.
Continuing my fascination with macro-photography, I tried to immortalize the first frost on our lawn this past week, as it adorned the remains of summer bloom and intensified the contour of fallen foliage.
The views came across as a time-warp, bridging three seasons into a moment of delicate natural beauty, only visible to an early riser, vanishing upon the gentle touch of the fragile morning sun.
There is something very melancholic about the end of November. The second half of this penultimate month in a year carries a certain nostalgic feel to it. Particularly here in the cold North, where it is defined by cloudy skies, damp, misty air and a barren landscape.
By now, all the foliage is gone. The golden, copper and fiery red colours are replaced by a multitude shades of grey. As we stand between seasons, our world grows monochrome. It resembles a foggy canvas upon which bare tree branches are painted like dark brush strokes against the twilight sky.
Thus it is time for me to conclude the progressive photography of our lovely birch tree, at least for this season.
It stands now all dormant in our front yard, appearing lifeless, entering its winter sleep. What a difference a span of three months can make - one can not believe that the first and last picture below is indeed taken in the same spot. Gone is the juice green and even the copper hue. The beautiful azure heavens and platinum sunshine. All that remains is a charcoal tree drawn against a transparent anthracite background.
Unless snow will cover its branches a few weeks down the road, I will return with a new update first next year, to take you on the opposite journey through the spring and into early summer, recording the return of the beautiful leaves of our silver birch.
I wonder if any of you recall my lovely Christmas Cactus. It has been in my possession for almost four years. Each November, its inner clock triggers it into a lovely bloom - it never fails.
This year is no exception.
Adorned by numerous pink flowers, the plant seems to be thriving, having survived the relocation and the fact that half of it perished in the summer, due to my own neglect.
I have recently realized it is also called Thanksgiving Cactus, which I think is a name much better fitting this enchanting plant, blooming with uncanny precision during the eleventh month, signalling in no uncertain terms that the Holiday Season is once more about to begin.
Those of you who have ever been moving know that it comes across like an endless process. Particularly the ultimate phase, when one is almost done and then again not quiet yet and when long days turn into late nights and all that remains is total exhaustion.
I am in that last phase right now and thus I have not been able to visit any of your lovely places, for which I apologize. I hope to do so as soon as my life returns to a somewhat familiar routine, which will be shortly.
The house is though now almost empty. It's rooms echo my footsteps and the music streaming out of the radio, reminding me of the time when I moved in. Serendipitously this was also in the month of November, thus I feel my time there has come full circle.
As I was collecting the last of my potted plants from my back terrace the other day, just when dusk was settling over the neighborhood ending a foggy, drizzly late autumn day, I had to pause for a moment as a feeling of familiarity overcame me. The place came across so barren and deserted, so empty of life, just like it did those eight years ago.
Then I saw it.
A single November Rose blooming in all its splendor on my old rosebush, this late in the year, when everything else in nature seems lifeless.
It came across as a beautiful sign of hope and a sweet fragrant gift which the house bestows upon me as I say my farewells. A miracle of nature confirming the fact that everything in life is truly connected.
(I managed to take these two snapshots with my old Nikon Coolpix, which I had with me, just before it run out of battery.)
This somewhat ominous title is actually a small excerpt from the lyrics to a song made by the band Imagination, called "Hold Me In Your Arms". For those of you who might be interested, there is a clip in the end of this post.
I own their album Closer, purchased as a tape almost twenty five years ago and it is right now on constant reply in my car, keeping me company on my very long drive home each day - after dark.
I love this album and I love this song in particular.
I love it's soulful harmonies and the eighties sound and I enjoy endlessly the memories as they come streaming back, while I recollect my youth to the gentle beats and the so very catching chorus.
Additionally, the mentioned words seem to sum up the period of the year we have just entered in a truly eloquent way.
November, together with December, account for the darkest month here in the cold North. This is the onset of time when twilight rules our days and when indeed, "darkness is our light".
I have mixed feelings about the increasing lack of light. Driving home after the onset of darkness makes for a very unpleasant ride, particularly during heavy rain storms when all I can see through the windshield is a distorted play of lights, resembling a watercolor painting.
Yet the twilight holds also a certain allure, as it instigates a sense of rest. It indicates that everything in nature is now slowly winding down and a period of stillness is ahead. Thus it beckons us to do the same - to retreat to our homes and enjoy the subtle lights of candles and the company of our loved ones.
As I have grown older, I have found novel joy in each season. The darkness of November has truly too its function, if only to reinforce our joy in the month of June, the month of light, balancing out our reality and putting everything into perspective.
(All images in this post are taken on our recent trip across the Danish Islands and in our home.)
We have been in snow for the past four days. An arctic cold front has ventured as far down as southern Scandinavia and its grip is firm, severe and extensive. Our temperatures plummeted in midweek and we have been in subzero ever since.
Last night an extensive snowstorm passed over us and this morning I woke up to a heavy blanket of white, covering everything in sight.
November and December snow is very unusual in my part of the world, as we are positioned in southern Scandinavia, where the Gulf Stream keeps our winters temperate. Still, intense snowfall can at times occur in the beginning of the year.
Thus this year Queen Winter seems to be arriving way ahead of time. Unexpectedly and in all her icy fury, she is determined to demand her reign without mercy.
When the snow started to fall, I was trying my very best not to give into a certain kind of irritation, or almost sorrow. Usually the first snow is magical, however this year initially it came across as oppressive, annoying and tiring. It arrived simply too soon, as vivid memories of our last never ending winter still linger in my perception.
But then unexpectedly, something changed today.
Standing in my living room early this morning, I was taking in the view of our snow covered scenery, feeling the stillness reign over my surroundings. Later, after I lit the fire, I watched it flicker, listening to its crackling noise, and suddenly I felt at ease; I felt safe and comfortable. Almost happy.
As I leaned my gaze against the silvery white cover outside my windows, a certain kind of transition took place within me. Looking at the sugar coated trees and the spellbound, white landscape, while I decorated my house with red, green, silver and golden colours of Christmas, my heart could not help but feel a certain kind of joy.
Surrendering to that universal spirit of celebration, which seems to have suddenly settled over my city - while I soon light the first out of four advent candles - made me realize in no uncertain terms that the Holiday Season has truly began.
And the snow cover made this onset feel incredibly enchanting and alluring, just like it is suppose to be...
As we stand between seasons, late fall melancholy becomes ever so palpable in the air. The sense of conclusion leaves its imprint in our surroundings, while Lady Autumn prepares to pass over her reign to the cold season.
In my mind, this part of the year plays out as a solemn symphony, in strokes of violins and piano, the likes of Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21. In images, the misty landscape seems to be saturated by a sense of gentle sorrow, as drops of rain adorn the last, shriveled remains of foliage, like bittersweet tears.
This is the time of November Nostalgia, filled with sweet remembrance and contemplation of moments passed. It comes across almost as a stillness, a moment of tranquility that lingers for a while, while we prepare to say our farewell to the flamboyant fall.
Nature is winding down and this decline is certainly contagious. There is an atmosphere of rest in my surroundings, a sense of odd harmony instigated by the endless circle of renewal and growth that a year comprises. Each season is a part of nature's master plan and the consistency in this progress is curiously reassuring.
Very soon, the shift to the reign of Winter will occur and replace the sense of twilight with the brilliance of illumination - and in it its turn - late fall melancholy with the time of expectations and joy, while the Holiday Season truly begins.
Even though overall I prefer to be around people, such as my friends and my family, I will not deny that I also like being on my own. I enjoy my own company and I need - almost crave - moments of solitude.
Being alone is at times essential I believe to every human being. What I dislike however is the sensation of being lonely. This can become very palpable for many as we near the Holiday Season, which at all times instigates the idea of family and companionship and is often perceived as a difficult period for those who lack both...
I have many favorite places in my home where I like to sit and daydream my hours away, relaxing, reading, writing or just contemplating life's grand purpose, while getting lost in scents and sounds around me.
Currently, with the onset of late fall and the imminence of winter, this place is near my fireplace. The crackling of the fire, the scent of burning wood and the comfortable atmosphere generated by candle lights convey tranquility and a sense of rest, which invigorates my mind and soul, despite the twilight that rules my days.
At this point, most of the foliage is found on the ground, as it piles up in heaps everywhere, creating a colourful blanket for a short, brilliant while. Before long, it will start decaying, becoming a warm cover for the plant and animal life concealed beneath it, in search of the anticipated winter sleep.
The frequency of frosty nights is increasing and with it, a new kind of art is to be found in nature. A gentle, still only very delicate icing, defining the image of leaves, at times resembling sprinkled sugar coat.
Signaling in no uncertain terms that the arrival of winter is imminent.
Note: To those of you have some spare time and interest, I am a featured as a guest blogger today on my friends Laura's blog. She is a wonderful writer and genuinely kind woman and a true inspiration to me and I am deeply honored she asked me to contribute with a post this month.
Due to the company I used to keep, in the past I found myself being a creature of the night, often involuntarily. It did not bother me though and I enjoyed late morning sleep ins; however on regular bases they failed to make me feel refreshed and invigorated.
As much as the stillness of the night can be soothing and tranquil, it seems also to carry a certain feel of distress with it. A sensation of being late, or being behind. As if one is trying to catch up with the world that seems to move a few hours ahead of oneself. Besides, it has been suggested that sleep initiated on the other side of midnight never fully restores the body and mind.
Early morning however carries a different kind of tranquility. The one that instigates a feel of being ahead, being the first one to experience an enchanting moment, way before anyone even knows it is there. The privilege of facing a new day, with all its pristine glory and unblemished beauty, while the rest of the population is still sound asleep, unaware of the natural wonder that is taking place just outside their windows.
As of lately, my body naturally prefers rising early and I have never felt more energetic. This past weekend, as I was up just after the day break, watching a late autumn sunrise, offered views filled with colours and nuances that contrast the ones surrounding our sunsets. Gone is the saturated golden, red and orange. Instead, the air is light and misty, defined by transparent colours; pale yellow, turquoise and baby blue, with a touch of pink, which can turn violet as the winter nears ever so close.
There is a certain magic hidden within the morning glory, which carries with it hope and sense of renewal, as well as promises of fresh beginnings. Anything has the potential to yet occur. It is infused with a sensation of momentarily stillness, almost an anticipation of something grand - it is as if time lingers for an instant, belonging to no one else but me...
Watching the sun rise slowly, as its subtle rays embrace the landscape, melting gently away the frosty blanket while the golden disc barely leaves the horizon, is a source of endless enchantment. To relish in the gentle tranquility of a newborn day, as my house becomes saturated with the scent of fresh coffee and baked bread has become one of my new found simple pleasures.
(Below a selection of recent images, depicting late autumn - early mornings, as viewed from my grand windows; please click the images for a better view)
