Making plans on a Monday morning – an early walk.
Kells, county Kilkenny
Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington
Monday morning thoughts on an early walk.
So its Monday morning and the First Monday of Novemver, I was up and out early and the weather was amazing. Its turned cooler at the start of this week.
I have a good list of things to do during the week ahead so it was great to get out and look at the local landscape on an early November Morning.
These late autumn and winter mornings are perfect to be out and about in , when its light at 4am in the summer you just dont get to see the early light !!
This winter I hope to do a good few posts during each week that capture the early morning landscape in all weather types from sunny to wet and maybe even a little snow and ice.
A November Song – A winters Gallery with poems
Novembers song
Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington
So Halloween is over and the first of the November mornings arrives, it feels like winter here in Kilkenny at last , I wonder what the season to come will bring, Snow and ice, Rain and storms, wonderful winter walks.
We will have to wait and see I guess, for now I post some of the images taken during winters past and some great poems reflecting upon the days ahead.
A Novembers song :
“The name ‘November’ is believed to derive from ‘novem’ which is the Latin for the number ‘nine’. In the ancient
Roman calendar November was the ninth month after March. As part of the seasonal calendar November is the
time of the ‘Snow Moon’ according to Pagan beliefs and the period described as the ‘Moon of the Falling Leaves’
by Black Elk.”
“The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I’ll put a trinket on.”
– Emily Dickinson
“When the trees their summer splendor
Change to raiment red and gold,
When the summer moon turns mellow,
And the nights are getting cold;
When the squirrels hide their acorns,
And the woodchucks disappear;
Then we know that it is autumn,
Loveliest season of the year.”
– Carol L. Riser, Autumn
“The sky is streaked with them
burning hole in black space —
like fireworks, someone says
all friendly in the dark chill
of Newcomb Hollow in November,
friends known only by voices.
We lie on the cold sand and it
embraces us, this beach
where locals never go in summer
and boast of their absence. Now
we lie eyes open to the flowers
of white ice that blaze over us
and seem to imprint directly
on our brains. I feel the earth,
rolling beneath as we face out
into the endlessness we usually
ignore. Past the evanescent
meteors, infinity pulls hard.”
– Marge Piercy, Leonids Over Us
Nigel Borrington 
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