November in the neighbourhood.

I live in Maisons Alfort, a small suburban town, qualified here as a “dormitory suburb”. That is to say that we’re sufficiently close to Paris (10 minutes on the RER- the suburban train) for people to enjoy most of the capital’s advantages: restaurants, theatres etc. Thus the locals usually both work in Paris and go out there for their leisure activities, and then come to Maisons Alfort to… sleep. The disadvantage to this is that this small town hasn’t developed its own character, being, an appendix to the capital, as it were. That said we have a nice theatre, no less than three libraries and gardens. This greenery is what has attracted me to Maisons Alfort in the first place. That, and the presence of two rivers: la Seine and la Marne. I felt like I needed to be next to the water.

There is absolutely no touristic itinerary that would include Maisons Alfort. I think many of us here live in this type of town. But today, I invite you to sit next to me on my balcony to share with you the beauty that can be found in the most ordinary places. The trick is in the quality of “looking”.

This is the view in front of us. I hope you’re confortable.

Just as I’m writing this, the air has cooled and there is the light drizzle of rain. We’re right in this- very short- period of time when the symphony of reds, oranges and yellows reaches its perfect pitch. October keeps a place for pale pinks and a transparent turquoise. Its palette has width and variety, like a beautifully carved crown, studded with jewels. Among the fall months, October is the queen. In November the pinks slowly fade or transform themselves into deep purples. The turquoise has disappeared or, maybe, dimmed itself and seeped into the greens that will continue to be present even during winter months.

On deep green background, the ochre and the burgundy leaves sing. The air itself is woven through with golden threads and shimmers slightly. In France, on November 1^st, it is customary to bring chrysanthemums to the cemetery to honour the departed. Just as the leaves float to the ground, the copper and red flowers start a melody that rises upwards. We’re now in this perfect moment- the Shimmering. This last week I’ve been visiting different gardens: from the timeless elegance of Jardin de Luxembourg to a perfect dream of Albert Kahn’s garden in Boulogne.  And yes- peeking into the open gates of cemeteries. Slowly the grey fog will wash over us, Nature will cover itself with a woollen blanket and we will put out candles and fairy lights to bring in a little bit of light.

But as I’ve said I’m writing this on my balcony. I spend a few minutes every morning and a few every evening here. These days I’m all bundled up and the cool air sends me inside relatively quickly- but still I crave this time outside. Today as I sit here a tree in my neighbour’s garden is letting its leaves fall on the red tiled roof. They look like scattered pages of a letter. A butterfly has appeared, seemingly agitated, like the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland- “I’m so awfully late”. The “letter” tree is in all its orange splendour- and I’m taking it all in. A tiny ladybug crawls on the iron railing, on warmer afternoons there are often ten or more that come to visit. But it’s November and even the red on the wings of this one is closer to a dusty orange.

Maple leaves in my sketchbook.

The pearl wall of fog

Old pink of a late dahlia-

A lively chirp.

The street that my balcony looks over is very quiet and there is a stretch of lawn that creates even more of a separation between this “outside” world and the balcony. A fig tree, a cherry tree- I’ve sketched them an innumerable number of times. From one season to another I observe them: the cherry tree will be covered in pearlescent pink blossoms come April ( a different pink than that of flowers in September), the light green figs will attract blackbirds in the end of August…The seasons will keep changing.

Next week we will visit another of unusual Parisian gardens. But today I wanted to offer you a cup of tea right here, on my balcony- I believe that this week many of us don’t feel like going out. Closing in seems safer than looking outside. But the world also offers us beauty, even in the most unexpected places. So just a couple of steps to the window, a breath of fresh air and a few words or lines in a sketchbook- may become a start of a conversation, a new beginning…And this is my wish for you.