The Nostalgia of Fall

After the rush of long days bathed in sunlight, spent on the beach or around a bottle of chilled wine in the park, when the “ber” months come around, a wave of nostalgia inevitably washes over me. Like clockwork, with the hum of back-to-school, pumpkins making their appearance at the farmers market, and coffee shops reintroducing their spiced recipes, my memories come falling back.

For me, autumn has always carried the taste of a fresh beginning, a new year of sorts. I’m sure this must have started with the idea of being assigned to a new classroom as a child, but it has somehow stayed with me into adulthood. It remains a time of year when I feel an overwhelming, contradictory urge to redefine myself entirely, all while trying to relive the exact experiences that shaped the autumnal months of my childhood. It’s that odd sense that everything feels novel, yet somehow exactly the way it’s always been.

There is a magical quality to this period that I can only describe as a kind of filter: a hue of light golden brown, the smell of a smoky vanilla and cardamom candle burning, the sensation of being wrapped in a thick wool blanket by the fire. It’s flashbacks of shopping for Halloween costumes, catching up on Gilmore Girls, and the scent of cinnamon filling the kitchen.

Like all seasonal transitions, there’s something quite reliable in the shifts that occur. From September through November, you can count on the days getting shorter, the leaves changing color, and the mornings growing chillier. It’s change, but it’s consistent, and this year, I’ve made a promise to myself to indulge fully in the romanticization of autumn.