With summer temperatures bleeding into September, and 20-degree days gracing us in October, what can we expect for future autumnal celebrations? Are we witnessing the fall of fall?
I thought I was experiencing a summer seasonal hangover alone, but several conversations with friends and family led me to discover that we all felt the same phenomenon: it no longer feels like fall.
There was no sudden shift in mood or the usual giddy feeling that accompanies the end of the summer, when we fish for our sweaters and scarves from the bottom drawers of dressers, nor was there any of the usual back-to-school excitement. There was only a lethargy that — irrespective of the amount of pumpkin-baked goods I made or apple and cinnamon-spiced tea I consumed — could not be expelled. Even the usual autumn soundtracks on Spotify felt like they were being consulted quite inappropriately in the unrelenting heat of the ‘ber’ months.
A few possible reasons for this passive mood stood out to me. The most glaring and obvious cause was that it simply did not physically look like autumn yet — the leaves on the trees were green and lush through all of September; there was no crunch underneath my Converse as I walked in parks, and nor were front porches adorned with foliage, wispy ghosts or bright pumpkins.
Although a valid explanation, it just wasn’t quite the right one.
My next logical conclusion was that I am simply growing into a proper “adult,” whose life (unlike toddlers and adolescents) is no longer drastically altered by the changing of the seasons. Work is work, school is school and — especially if you’re taking summer courses — life simply goes on. There is no longer the disruption of routine that made us, as youth, have an actual event associated with the commencement of autumn.
I remember being excited for fall every August; all the Halloween decorations, the warmth from spiced teas permeating my palms on crisp chilly mornings, the sense of academic nostalgia that filled the air as children waved to me from school buses in rush hour traffic. Like the adults around me, who never seemed to get excited about the seasons, I realized this may all simply be a part of growing up.
Except, I was excited — so were my classmates and friends at university. So, what was wrong with us?
I’ve since reached the logical conclusion that we’re all perfectly sane, and that this strange sensation has to do with the weather. Do you realize how disorienting it was to walk around in shorts and sandals throughout September whilst seeing glimpses of red and orange in the trees? Or seeing pumpkins at the grocery store while having to turn the AC on in the car due to the heat?
We may not comprehend it, and we may shrug it off, but our bodies are more finely attuned to these external changes than we give them credit for. It’s not simply that we’re grasping for pitiful remnants of childhood joy that came from jumping in leaf piles, or having stacks of R.L. Stine’s books and Scary Stories to Read in the Dark keeping us company past bedtime.
There is a real shift in how the in-between months in fall and spring are being defined, as they slowly inch towards the dangerous categorization of belonging to the summer season. And, with the rising temperatures and global climate-related catastrophes, it’s not a stretch.
This might sound grim, but it’s a reality we all face: autumn grows shorter as we grow older, and it’s up to us to preserve it, be it through advocating for environmental movements or reducing our own carbon footprints. To live intentionally — seizing each moment that feels uniquely like fall — means stopping the doom scrolling, stepping outside, and savouring the chill in the air while it lasts. It’s also a reminder to pull back on overconsumption; instead, let’s return to finding joy in the simpler things our planet still has to offer.
