Essay and photos by Joe Mish

The last full month of autumn, disguised as winter, covers this deer with an early blanket of snow.

The dried carpet of sliver maple leaves covering the lawn, was raked into a large pile, over several days, to prepare for cremation. Without conscious intent, the burning of autumn leaves took on the appearance of a sacrificial pyre, offered to some mischievous god to gain favor for the coming winter’s hunt.

The light gray smoke that rose from the smoldering pile of dried leaves magically turned into orange flame, which slowly consumed the sacrifice. Flames reduced the leaves to glowing embers, filling the air with the gentle scent of smoky incense, and finally to a layer of light gray ash, dispersed by a gust of November breeze.

November’s arrival is enlivened by lingering color, and departs with bare tree tops in its wake. During this period of transition, dramatic change takes place as the earth turns its glance away from the sun, to make it appear the stationary sun is traveling across the sky. As a result, the sun appears lower in the sky, day length and sunlight decrease and the earth begins to cool.

Myth suggests the earth’s lapse in attention to the bright star that holds our universe together, was a slight, deserving of immersion into deep cold and growing darkness. When the earth turns back to face the sun in the spring, all is forgiven, as light and warmth are restored to usher in a celebration of new life and hope.

If November were to be folded in half, fluorescent orange, oak leaves, would be layered upon the cold white snow, set against a slate gray background with bare, thin black tree branches forming a skeletal support structure upon which the compressed image of the month rests.

When the bright colors fade, the orange glow of funereal leaf pyres die, and the earth is left in darkness, eyes turn toward the heavens to gaze upon the bright stars and planets glowing against a black velvet lined display case. Countless billions of stars dot the heavens, clusters of stars taking on a milky appearance. Each star holding a portion of the faded daylight lost in the approach of winter. The stars give hope that the light is not lost after all, and with appropriate supplication directed to the heavens, it will soon be returned.

Staring at the night sky over time, patterns emerge and dots of light are connected to form the outline of mythical beings and animals referenced against the human experience. It then becomes apparent, the figures move across the sky, and appear only at certain times of the year.

November has its signature night sky, featuring impressive planetary choreography, meteor showers and animated constellations recognized by the earliest human inhabitants.

Planets, undifferentiated from stars at first glance make a featured appearance. Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus take the stage at different times, in association with constellations, sunrise and sunset.

November fifteenth is the full beaver moon. Each full moon bears many aliases associated with events in nature. That link creates a primitive calendar, allowing a level of predictability required to enhance survival. The constellation, castor, appeared as a beaver to the paleo mind, and is used by taxonomists to derive the scientific name, ‘castor canadensis’, for the beaver. The impact of the impact of the stars on human creativity is timeless.

Meteor showers and falling stars, seen in the heavenly lit November sky, demand explanation. Strip away science, and let your imagination run wild with unrestrained conjecture to create a mythology that satisfies your primitive mind.

Any image of quintessential November is subjective at best and its many moods offer a variety of choices.

The first snow is usually delivered before November hands the last vestige of autumn over to December. The first, freshly minted white flakes are welcome emissaries who announce the intention of winter to arrive soon after. When the sky turns gray, the temperature drops near freezing, and flurries are forecast, all eyes are compelled by some innate siren call, to catch sight of their first snowflake. The stunning beauty and intricacy of each snowflake, appears to be the work of an ethereal entity and suggests the existence of a higher power. In some way, each unique flake is the blueprint for the infinite diversity of life and the appearance and personality of individuals within a species.

I clearly recall sitting around a large conference table in a room with two walls of outside windows, when snow was forecast for late afternoon. I kept watching for the first flake, which would easily stand in contrast against the dark wooded landscape. The anticipation was high, though the meeting ended without the expected precipitation. Odd that this event is cemented in my memory, though it may be a case where the intensity of expectation is such that the sight of a single snowflake would allow my escape from sterile environment in which I sat, it would, in essence, amount to a jailbreak for my soul.

Author Joe Mish has been running wild in New Jersey since childhood when he found ways to escape his mother’s watchful eyes. He continues to trek the swamps, rivers and thickets seeking to share, with the residents and visitors, all of the state’s natural beauty hidden within full view. To read more of his writing and view more of his gorgeous photographs visit Winter Bear Rising, his wordpress blog. Joe’s series “Nature on the Raritan, Hidden in Plain View” runs monthly as part of the LRWP “Voices of the Watershed” series. Writing and photos used with permission from the author.