Each year, when the sweltering August days make way for the golden sunshine of September, I feel revived. I feel it in the air: the coming turning of the seasons. A freshness in the air that enables me to breathe deeply again and that replenishes my energy.

I’m a girl from the North country – I would be deeply unhappy if I lived in a climate without seasons. Unlike the rest of Holland (or so it seems), I don’t enjoy the summer. Sure, the first balmy days, when you walk around in your shirt sleeves: that’s okay. But the long, hot summer months, when it seems as if nothing happens and time stands still, and I’m overwhelmed by a sense of lethargy… no. Especially August, the month that I mostly associate by fields turning yellow in the blistering sun, always seems to last forever (just like February in the winter). I even call it a bona fide summer depression, even though that’s not a clinical term – strange, actually, because it’s long since been diagnosed that people suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder in winter and from manic-depressive (bipolar) episodes in the spring or autumn. But during the summer, everyone should feel all sunny and happy, or so it seems.

Not me. I love the turning seasons. You feel it in the atmosphere: something’s happening, nature is adapting. Change. I love it. From the Indian summer we had last week, with clear blue skies and golden days, when I could sit in the sun for hours without sweltering and sweating, to the real beginning of the fall. When I walk my dogs in the morning or late at night, I love to watch the trees with their softly changing colours. I enjoy the smell of woodsmoke, of rotting leaves and mushrooms. (I remember making piles out of fallen leaves as a kid, and then jumping around in them. The best feeling.) I don’t even care if it rains, it clears my head – unless you’re in England, working on the land; that kind of takes the fun out of pouring rain – but then, I don’t have to be at work or school in my drenched clothing. I can dry my hair and change into dry clothes the minute I get home, and enjoy my cup of tea by the fire. Some candles and incense et voilá. Instant cosiness. I love that homey feeling. I’m not a no. 1 chef, but in the autumn I long to cook and bake. I even made my own granola this week!  I’d almost say: I wish it could last forever…. but that would be defeating the purpose, for it’s the turning of the seasons that I love. And still, like William Cullen Bryant wrote once: “Autumn… the year’s last, loveliest smile.” Amen!

© Photography by Zoë // Moderne Hippies