Why autumn is new beginnings and nostalgia

Join me for autumn appreciation and a trip down memory lane

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Autumn. It’s my favourite time of year. I know there are downsides - getting colder, darker, the end of summer frolicking. But, there’s a certain magic around autumn. We get to see nature change as we’re in it. We have those cold, crisp days. You know the ones. Where the sun is shining, but not in a summer way - the blue of the sky seems like it sparkles and the sun slinks its way down the horizon, lighting up ‘chemtrails’ almost cinematically. The trees change colour almost instantaneously around us, and we get to just take it in. Like a majestic show that we’ve all got tickets for. There for us, for free. Yeah, those kind of days.

Crunching a leaf under your foot is never ever not satisfying, either.

Lana Del Rey is playing on repeat and When Harry Met Sally is on my TV again.

I feel a sense of renewal in autumn. Which, I know, spring is the classic season for that. But not for me. I always get a sense of hope and feel comforted by that. It feels like when autumn comes, everyone seems to be ‘getting back to normal’ after summer, and it brings a feeling of peace and routine. A chance to look inward, to check in on yourself, to slow down, or start something new. Autumn is like opening the first page of a new book and cracking the spine.

Autumn is also the time when many life changes happen, too. Starting school, going to uni, and for me, studying and living in a different country. And all that makes me nostalgic.

Iowa City

I always go back in my head to Iowa City at this time of year. Maybe it’s because the seasons are so pronounced over there in the mid-west of America. The trees in autumn over there really are something else. And autumn in Iowa was where I think, for the first time, truly, I experienced proper adult independence.

Before I went, I didn’t really think about gaining more independence, or how alone I’d be. I would be spending my first semester of my final year at university in Iowa City - A UNESCO City of Literature no less! Which, as an English and American Literature & Culture student at the University of Hull, was a dream. I still can’t believe they just said, yeah, just go for it. I literally just asked at the international office if I could do it and they said yes (one of many instances I’ve encountered of ‘if you never ask, you never get’).

The summer before I went to Iowa I was in love. In fact, I think I’d been in love that whole second year of university. But, back then, my vulnerability in romantic relationships was behind an iron-clad wall, with no hope for anyone trying to break it down. Even someone I was head over heels in love with. I played it cool, which ended up being broken hearted when my first love revealed he didn’t want to wait for me while I was away. All very rom-com now I look back at it.

So, heartbroken and unable to show it, off I went on a flight across the Atlantic, not really thinking about the details, especially not the being on my own bit.

And then I got there

International students arrive a week earlier than everyone else, so there I was in my Iowa City apartment - no bedding, no lamps, nothing really other than my suitcase of very British clothes that I would find later would perplex the mid-western Americans, a phone and a laptop.

My room was eerily quiet and the voice in my head became obnoxiously loud. “Oh, shit, Hannah. You’re COMPLETELY on your own. Like, not one person really knows where you are, what you’re doing. In fact, everyone you know is across a whole ocean. And they’re all probably fast asleep right now. A whole week before any sort of housemates arrive. You’re all on your own. What if you start to feel lonely? Oh, god.”

But guess what? The feeling of loneliness never arrived.

Instead, I felt this sense of a new beginning. A need to get the most I possibly could out of this incredible opportunity. I forged my way forwards in this new situation I found myself in, and just knew I had to trust myself and go with it.

By autumn, I had made a home out of the room I had in the shared apartment. I’d signed up to all the creative writing classes that I possibly could, and even started to like - and write - poetry.

I’d also been to some college parties and started a love/hate relationship with being a Brit in the mid-west of America. Everyone wanted to bring me to a party and introduce me: “this is my BRITISH friend!” which would provide some entertainment for a grand total of about 5 minutes, while I said something stereotypically British, and was asked if I knew the Queen. Then, inevitably, something more interesting, like the start of a new game of beer pong, came along.

I spent more and more time on my own - I wasn’t really interested in the superficial friendships on offer, and I didn’t want to limit myself too much by hanging out with all the international students - as comforting as that was.

It’s starting to sound like I became a bookish loner. And maybe that’s true - but that’s not how it felt at the time.

I loved it. For the first time ever, I could revel in spending time with myself. No one to answer to, nowhere to be, unless it was one of my many classes, a poetry reading at the local bookshop, or a quick video call with friends and family back home. And, yes, it does sound like I’m painting this very idyllic picture. Maybe that’s the nostalgia kicking in, and I'm sure there were hard times, but I’m okay with remembering it like this.

I was my own tour guide, my own best friend. I completely trusted myself and that meant I was starting on a path to really understand myself (a path that I now realise that we never really stop trudging along). At 20 years old, I was starting to understand what it meant to be truly independent.

The heartbreak faded - although it never went away. And I wrote a lot about it. One positive about heartbreak - LOTS of material to work with! There was no happy ending to that - but now, in an ironic nostalgic sense of new beginnings, there is a happy ending: I’m here writing this newsletter to you, being vulnerable and feeding the need to write. Iowa was 12 years ago, but every autumn, it takes me back to the literary town where I created my own little coming of age story which will forever live in my mind, the crunch of the autumn leaf bringing it back to life each year.

Getting on that path of self-understanding, and I guess self-acceptance, means I’m bold enough to share my thoughts here…and some of my poetry for the first time at the very end of this newsletter.

But before I share that (and if it’s not your thing, that’s totally okay, too - it’s poetry, I know it’s not everyone’s fave!)…

I’m curious. Have you had a time in your life when you’ve had the chance to truly get to know yourself? When was it? Is it happening now? Or would you like to make it happen? Let me know in the comments 💬

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