Small pleasures.

November is not my favourite month.

The hunt is on every weekend and the ominous crump of guns keeps us out of the forest.

I have bought florescent fleece scarves to mark us out in the gloomy woods and hopefully to prevent us from being shot, but their jarring colour is very unlovely.

Winston is unimpressed.

When venturing into the edge of the forest ( on none hunting days) there are still a few birds to hear. The high pitched chuffing train call of the tiny goldcrest; the crackle of the mistle thrush; the screeching note of the black woodpecker as it moves from bare winter tree to bare tree.

Beech trees are beautifully monumental denuded of their leaves. Their trunks are smooth and grey, fine limestone pale in the weak light.

On a cut log the tiniest of fungi jelly babies break the surface, nosing up into the damp November air.

The pleasures of November are small .


10 thoughts on “Small pleasures.

  1. peterspetra says:

    Yes, November may be a difficult month: No longer autumn (with trees full of colours) and not yet winter (embellished by Mother Holle). However, it is not sooo bad, I believe. It was the month I used to travel with my husband to explore the world – Asia, Latin America… I keep wonderful memories in my heart. This year I enjoyed the warm weather at the Herbstmesse and the last water lily at Herzogenmatt. Now I start to get ready for Christmas; it is a wonderful time to think of the gifts for my family and friends and to look forward of being with them.

    Liked by 1 person

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