The Last Green Thing in the Forest
November is bleak in the Twin Cities. Over the four weeks that usually separate the fall of the last leaf from that of the first snow, the day shortens by more than an hour. For many of the humans that live here, that hour is the one whose loss we most acutely feel, of the nearly seven we lose in total between the summer and winter solstices. Other months have their compensations. October’s changing leaves make the world a kaleidoscope in slow motion. December’s early-season snowfalls remake the world afresh. November offers no such diversions: only bare trees, bare ground, and the relentless, clock-like loss of two minutes of sunlight every day. OK, maybe there’s one diversion. If you spend any time in the ample forests in and around the Cities, you might have noticed it. A break in the pattern. Here and there, against the gray expanse of leafless trees – a spot of green, vibrant as mid-summer. If you’re the curious type, you might even have approached it for a closer lo...