A woman decked in her most refined jewels - an ode to Lady Autumn and November's colours


And so November is upon us. Quietly, discretely, it has crept upon us unnanounced, unexpected, rainy and humid and with strong gusts of wind, dressed in beauty and warmth. The grey skies abound most days, and October turns into a faraway distant memory, of a month that while it seemed to be terrible, it had so many small, wonderful moments. There were bright, jeweled colours all around to make the drizzly greyness seem festive, as only October can make do, as only November can promise. They whisper dreams of warm cozy days into my year, of fairly lights and tender meats, of fruits and greens and abundance in the heart, if not on the outside. But on the outside there is always an abundance of beauty if we set our eyes to truly see it.


Actually, come to think about it, Autumn is such a festive season, nature wise! The colours on the fallen leaves, the hues of fruits and produce, the very light outside, even when skies are bruised and purple, clouds ladden with a promise of rain. It is as if Nature has embelished itself for us to see, a last effort of grandeur and pomp right before Winter, trying in its own way to inspire us into embellishing our world when the coldest months finally arrive, Autumn being our teacher in beauty and colour, much as in Spring, really. But while Spring is child at play, all light and bright with greens and mellow yellows and pinks and the deep deep blues of sea and sky, Autumn is a woman garbed in her most exquisite raiments, a sophisticated, elegant lady, full of class and savoir faire, aristocracy to Spring's paysanne.


The Lady Autumn will deck herself in dark hued velvets and silks, adorn herself in garnets and rubies and jewels of the most exquisitely profound colourings, where grapes are her earrings and pommegrantes her necklaces and persimons might sit at her ears dangling bright and glorious in their emulation of a November sunset, and her dresses are the moist, wet, multihued fallen leaves, sparkling with the icy dew of early mornings. I went to the market just the other day, and was appaled at the colours of Nature's bounty. The dark, deep greens of cabbages, the bluish hinge of broccoli heads, the white and purple of the turnips, the brightly orangey persimons, the golden globes of grapes so ripe they want to burst, the luscious deep reds of apples and pommegranates, the slightly rosy tints amidst the yellows and greens of pears...


It was an explosion to the senses, amongst the scents and the noise of a market at full throttle early on a Saturday morning, where every step is hindered by some sight or other, where every curve brings the flush of warm, out of the oven breads and cakes, and the constant chatter of vendors and costumers alike. But it was mostly a decadent delight on the eyes, all those colours, all those glows, all the beauty that spoke of sweetness and tartness and fragrant, juicy bites into fruit, or that lent itself to the conjuring of cozy images portraying warm, bubbling stews, rich in their own colours, rich in their ingredients, rich in aromas that turn to be heady as you sit down to eat. We ended up bringing bagloads of goodies, as much as we could afford, and feeling so much better just for having gone there. Sometimes I wonder how can something so simple as a trip to the market be filled with such joy, such delight, such anticipation of what one might find...


November has not been round to a very good start. I am coming to the conclusion that there will be no respite, never, and I must really learn to live with uncertainty and stress and doubt and hardship and failure. I must really strive to live with feelings of impotence, of insecurity, of fear and with the guilt that comes from it; and make do, and move on, and still be able to find joy in everyday life. For there is always a promise of good days spent inside the home, huddled in warm throws, cooking what we can afford to, as we clearly stay away from the hustle and bustle others call life. We always kind of hibernate come Fall and Winter, so it must not be different, hibernate we will. There will still be visions of beauty I can conjure as I decorate our home for the seasons, with the same old, tired looking objects that hold such a special place in our hearts. Home will once more become a safe harbour, and though every month must be a struggle, there is certainly so much goodness in the everyday as to put to rest those ugly moments and ugly thoughts that will sometimes creep about. November will be as November is.



Comments

  1. gostei muito :)

    www.pinkie-love-forever.blogspot.com

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  2. gostei tanto, mas tanto! que lindo, Ruth!
    beijinhos babe

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  3. Hi beautiful,
    I was just browsing through & stumbled upon your lovely blog - It looks gorgeous and it has interesting posts that I can relate to, I’ll come back for sure.
    Would you like to follow each other on GFC and other social media?
    Let me know and let’s keep in touch love <3
    http://xoxocitygirl.blogspot.pt/

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  4. Autumn is here and it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas November also brings light and warmth e rabanadas e batatas doces e amor e calor de lareira (mesmo sem lareira) gostei, bonito e profundo :*

    Autumn is here and it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

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