grey November day

I like the assonance in that phrase. The balance is comforting, just like the sky and the quiet. There were few people in the park, mostly the committed runners or folks walking their dogs. There were two friends (adults) swinging slowly on the swingset, the chain creaking iconically in the quiet gloom. Everyone was bundled up and reserved. There wasn't any false friendliness or needing to acknowledge others. It was a day made for introverts.

There was an article today in the New York Times praising November days. The writer lives in New England, where winter is far more advanced than it is here in Tennessee; I still have leaves on my peach trees in the backyard. But on days like today you know winter is coming. I went through a period in my life where I was in love with fall and winter. I was depressed then and wore a lot of black. Then I went through a happier time where I gloried in sun and warmth. Now I'm appreciating winter again, but for different reasons. I know this because I don't want every day to be like today. I'm feeling reflective, quiet, introverted today, and this weather suits my mood exactly. Soon I'll tire of it, and want to be jovial and friendly again, and I'll value the blue skies. I wouldn't mind some warmer weather later this week, either, when we go to visit J's parents. I'm hoping to walk through their farm more than I was able to last year.

Something wondrous about a grey day: the cobalt glints on the bluebirds.