The Simple Magic of October

A personal essay on living slowly in the autumn season

Breathe in, breathe out. I can feel the frost on my fingertips and see the cool white air as my dog takes a long deep breath. We’re on our morning walk, it’s the first day of October, and the weather is magic.

I open the door to home and am greeted by the rich smell of cinnamon rolls baking in the oven. My sourdough starter sits on the counter, fed & happy.

I can hear the birds chirping outside and am watching as the leaves all around us turn from a bright green to a deep burgundy, eventually into a burnt orange as they trickle to the ground.

My daughter and I sit with the door open as we eat our breakfast, admiring the beauty of autumn. Then, we head out to explore. Layers are our friend these days, unsure if we’ll get chilly or heat up in the sun.

The leaves crunch below as we walk, and we can hear the dog barking at home, mad that she was left behind.

Our days begin to slow, as we adjust to the darker evenings and brisk mornings. There is nowhere else to be than here.

We snuggle on the couch, bundled up in the coziest blanket we can find, and read books over and over again. She takes my hand to lead me where she wants me to go.

We are finding a rhythm, this autumn. We listen to the sway of the trees, and the joy of the birds, and I say “sky” endlessly as she points up above.

I swear she’s from another world.

Stew is planned for dinner, and endless cups of tea are on repeat. I take a quick drive in the afternoon to pick up my raw milk order from the neighborhood next door. A farm share has begun, and it’s been glorious. I plan what to bake next, what warming meals I can cook to nourish my family, how I can use up our seasonal produce.

We have nowhere to be but here.

The sun sets along the sea and I grasp at it through the lens of my camera, in between shots of grateful travelers documenting their moments here in this little town along the beach. The sky turns from a bright blue to pastel pink, and as the sun dips below the shoreline, we are surrounded by the brightest, warmest red and orange colors. I see it every year here in October.

I shake my toes from the sand, avoiding the cool waters and equally grateful for them. We cross our fingers for no hurricanes this time of year.

I walk home, eagerly awaiting the stew that’s been simmering in the slow cooker all afternoon.

As I pour ladlefuls of dinner out for each of us, I upload the images from tonight’s photoshoot onto my hard drive just to keep them safe. It’s the busiest I will be all day, multi-tasking for once.

We climb up the stairs, ready for bath time. I watch as the little rolls leave my baby girl, and hold onto the last ones around her wrist as she takes each step up. We’ve forgotten the dog, so she climbs back down and pats her on the booty, ever so gently, to get her to join us.

She splashes and plays in the warm portable tub I set up in our shower each night. Then, Dada comes up to dry her off while Mama (me) brushes her teeth and rubs magnesium lotion all over her tiny body. We then snuggle into bed and read more books, we say goodnight to the moon. We close the blinds, leaving the outside world until tomorrow.

We wish for sleep to come easily, but also cherish these nights when we’re all cozied up together. I know it won’t last forever.

As she drifts to dreamland, I look up at my husband and smile, knowing these are the moments we’ll never forget.

This is how our days go currently.

This is what slow living looks like for us.

This is the simple magic of October.