What happens when our most nostalgic season vanishes?

The romance of decay and the hype around fall aesthetics

“There’s Autumn where you are, and you’ll still travel to where there’s better Autumn.”
–Josh Johnson, “White people’s favorite season.”

I was reminded of comedian Josh Johnson’s hilarious bit about Autumn today because I’m sitting here typing this at home in rainy Brooklyn and not in a quaint hotel in the Berkshires where we had planned to go leaf peeping. We’re in a bit of a drought again, but a Nor’easter ruined the only Fall weekend we had travel plans. Because, of course.

Anyway.

I heard that this year’s foliage is dull and muted because of the warmer night temperatures and the lack of rain. Just last week I was griping about the weird dissonance of October nights that still feel like summer. Mid-70s muggy temperatures at 7 p.m. when it’s already pitch-black. But then, it happened overnight. I stepped outside Thursday to weather that was cool enough to reach for a jacket. I spent the morning reveling in that deliciously crisp, early fall air. I could have cried.

Autumn is paradoxical. It’s death and decay, but it disguises the biological process of chlorophyll breakdown as beauty in a rage of colors. It’s also the season we most romanticize.