Norway of the Year
At about this time of year in 1865, Emily Dickinson wrote to her sister, Mrs. J.G. Holland, after an update on family news: ‘It is also November. The noons are more laconic and the sundowns sterner, and Gibraltar lights make the village foreign. November always seemed to be the Norway of the year.’ Like Sadie Stein I have loved those lines since I first came across them, I can’t remember when. Stein speculates about the source of Dickinson’s association: Asbjørnsen and Moe? Immigrants’ tales? One can but speculate. What we can say is this: November, as well as being a time when nature, through processes of death, prepares for sleep is also a time when fields are prepared for next spring’s crops, when the air has a blessed freshness that makes breathing delightful, and when the subtle symphony of colours can make you gasp with wonder before dusk.
