As summer reaches its zenith around the solstice, an unsettling feeling begins to wash over me. The blissful barbecues of the Fourth of July are a clear sign that the season is nearing its end, and by mid-July, retail stores start to clear out outdoor grills, replacing them with an array of notebooks and cozy sweaters. Magazines begin showcasing their August editions filled with fall patterns, boots, and corduroy. Although I recognize that summer has just started, psychologically, I can’t help but feel that the days are slipping away. Soon enough, the long evenings will give way to a bleak, wintry landscape, forcing me to struggle to stay awake past 9 p.m.
But what about autumn itself? To be honest, I have never been particularly fond of it. It’s not solely about the shorter days; it’s the underlying stress that often accompanies this transition. For children, fall signifies a return to school, which means hours spent under harsh fluorescent lights after enjoying carefree summer days filled with camp and poolside fun. I used to find some thrill in the fresh box of crayons and the excitement of a new school outfit, but for me, August was primarily a countdown to the inevitable reality of lugging these items to class.
In my adult life, the end-of-summer anxiety has lessened, especially with the absence of a traditional summer break. However, it still marks the conclusion of a more leisurely phase of the year—one where TV shows are on hiatus, outdoor movies light up the nights, and I could wear sandals while sipping iced beverages in the evening. With the onset of fall, it’s time to pull out those wool skirts and enjoy warm drinks indoors, signaling a return to seriousness.
After several years in the corporate world, I transitioned to teaching, which has allowed for a more flexible summer schedule. If I do teach, the semesters are shorter and the workload lighter. Yet, with young children and an endless to-do list that includes organizing, oil changes, and doctor appointments, long summer days can be a double-edged sword. My kids, energized by the sun, often want to stay up until 10 and rise at the crack of dawn.
Reflecting on it, I find that I actually appreciate the early days of fall. The weather becomes pleasantly cool, making outdoor cafes enjoyable with just a few extra layers. When caramel apples reappear in stores, I indulge in at least one each week, relishing the sweet-tart flavor until they vanish again. The crunch of leaves underfoot enhances even a simple walk, and the excitement of pumpkins, costumes, and Halloween celebrations adds joy to the season.
As I grow older, I find myself spending more time indoors in air conditioning during the summer, making me unsure how I used to bask in the heat by the pool as a child. I now eagerly await the cooler afternoons that follow Labor Day. Living in Colorado, I’ve learned that fall can be quite unpredictable, with snow possible in September and an unexpected frost turning my garden into a scene from a horror movie overnight. However, a sudden snowfall often gives way to a clear, 60-degree day—perfect for a drive amidst the stunning golden hues of Aspen leaves cascading down the mountains.
When I begin to dread the approach of fall, I remind myself to embrace the present season instead of rushing toward winter. This year, I plan to don a long-sleeved shirt and savor cider outdoors while the chrysanthemums bloom. I will strive to remain in the moment and not let thoughts of winter intrude.