The End of the Beginning or the Beginning of the End?

Howdy, folks!

There’s something about the leaves changing that always feels like the culmination of a long, slow exhale. The way the trees shed their green in a flurry of yellow, orange, and crimson signals the end of one cycle and, quietly, the start of another. For many of us, autumn is the time when everything becomes most vivid, and even the world itself seems to recognize the beauty of impermanence.

But this autumn is different. It might be the hottest one we’ve ever had in New York. While the trees blaze on schedule, the air is thick with a warmth that doesn’t feel like it belongs here. It’s strange, unsettling even, to feel the pull of summer in what should be the season of sweaters and woodsmoke. Every unseasonably warm day feels like a nudge—whether it’s a reminder of nature’s cyclical patterns or a wake-up call to the climate’s undeniable shift, it’s hard to say. Yet, there’s no denying that something feels a little off.

And yet, autumn has always been my favorite season, not just for the colours, but for what it says about life. Trees stand like wise old giants, shedding the year’s labors in a blazing finale, leaving their branches bare and vulnerable. I think about how these trees once held fresh buds and blossoms only a few months ago, how they promised so much possibility with every new leaf they unfurled. And here they are again, in a final embrace of fire, knowing full well that all things must pass.

There’s a comfort in this acceptance. Autumn reminds us that life is transient, that beauty is often short-lived, and that maybe it’s better that way. These trees don’t resist change; they allow themselves to transform, leaning into the season rather than fighting it. And as they do, their brief, brilliant colors remind us that things don’t have to last forever to matter. In fact, it’s often the things that slip through our fingers that hold the most meaning.

As we step into the heart of autumn, I like to think of it as a personal reset. The leaves may be falling, but there’s a kind of rebirth in it too. It’s a season that honors both youth and age, embracing everything from sprouting acorns to wrinkled bark. It’s a reminder that we, too, are both old and new, carrying our histories even as we’re constantly beginning again.

So here’s to the trees, to the end of the beginning and the beginning of the end. Here’s to each of us, wherever we find ourselves on this journey—forever young and forever aging, ready to face the world’s next transformation. This year, in this unseasonable warmth, may we find the strength to adjust, just as the trees do, and make peace with both our cycles and our changes.

‘Til next time.

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