#1412.Appalachian Seasons, Fall. III. November.

November is bleak—not actually bleaker than the following winter months, but seemingly so by contrast with October glories. Leaves fall in the Fall, and so do our spirits, haunted by the Dark Months ahead.

Brushy Hills, Ridge Trail

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

 

Still, there are beauties everywhere, if we but care to look.

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

 

I continue my monthly posts on the Appalachian Forest around me, now at the three-quarter mark, with only Winter remaining.

At the beginning of the month most of the leaves have gone to their rest. I find their fallen patterns, textures and muted hues to be endlessly fascinating.

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

Roaring Run

Roaring Run

Roaring Run

Brushy Hills, Ridge Trail

Brushy Hills, Ridge Trail

Brushy Hills, Ridge Trail

 

But some leaves still cling to trees, particularly in the canopy, defiant in their finest fall colors, however tattered.

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

Roaring Run

 

And some trees (beeches and oaks in particular) are marcescent, holding onto their desiccated leaves all winter—a memory and a promise, and perhaps a safeguard against deer foraging on their lower branches.

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

 

Mountain streams begin their incessant rush to the sea.

Roaring Run

Roaring Run

 

Mushrooms still manage to survive, even thrive, as the weather turns colder.

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

Roaring Run

Brushy Hills, Ridge Trail

Brushy Hills, Ridge Trail

 

By Thanksgiving, the forest canopy is nearly bare.

Brushy Hills, Ridge Trail

Brushy Hills, Ridge Trail

 

Nearly, but not completely, as evergreens persist and there are still a few deciduous leaves high up in the canopy; leaves were gently raining down as I took these images.

Brushy Hills, Ridge Trail

Brushy Hills, Ridge Trail

 

At the same time, there are small oases of green on the forest floor, as lichen, mosses and ferns cope with the elements by lying low, snuggled in blankets of dead leaves.

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

AT near Lynchburg Reservoir

Roaring Run

Roaring Run

 

Acorns are also at rest, awaiting their time either to sprout if buried and forgotten by a squirrel or becoming “mast” (food) for various animals, including deer.

Brushy Hills, Ridge Trail

 

I live in a karst landscape, underlain by limestone that dissolves easily and is pocked by caves. Its surface manifestations are mostly sinkholes, of varying sizes. This pair was about 25’x100’ overall, and not terribly deep; they may conceal a portal to the labyrinth underneath.

Brushy Hills, Ridge Trail, sink holes

 

But their appearance also conceals another hidden reality: the blanket of Fall comforts dormant life beneath, patiently awaiting the warmth of Spring—a thought that will sustain me through the Dark Months ahead.

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#1417. The Battle of Imphal and Kohima

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#1408. Appalachian Seasons, Fall. II. October.