Karen Pugh shares about experiencing Autumn in California.
Growing up in the Midwest, autumn was my favorite season. I looked forward to the stickiness of summer fading as the air turned cool and crisp. I gladly donned my corduroys and wool sweaters, watching on as the maples morphed into lush canopies of crimson and orange.
Inspired by the trees, I believed autumn was the perfect time for my own transformation. Every year I bought college-ruled notebooks – their pages open to possibility – and recorded my aspirations using multi-colored gel pens. I wasted no time concocting lists of projects to nurture, hobbies to explore and meticulous five-year plans.
When preparing for my move to California, people warned me about the lack of seasons. My first year in the Bay Area, I wasn’t prepared for how much I would miss the flamboyant Ohio Autumns. But over the years I’ve come to appreciate Northern California’s more subtle seasonal displays. I’ve watched the fan-shaped leaves on my neighbor’s ginkgo turn a soft buttery yellow – a bit of cheer amid evergreen redwoods and laurels.
I’ve noticed the vines in Sonoma turning a deep shade of plum just before the harvest. My penchant for exuberant planning has also muted. I believe California has invited me to slow down – to breathe, observe and savor. To let change come naturally and at its own pace.
Autumn now finds me longing to hibernate like bears and marmots. Instead of furiously filling notebooks with copious to-do lists, I prefer to curl up with a languid novel under my cozy blanket. I now drink more warm beverages. It took me a few years to realize I wasn’t broken; I evolved. I now embrace the restful moments my body and soul need so I can later emerge, forage and flourish alongside the rest of nature. With a Perspective, I’m Karen Pugh.
Karen Pugh lives in San Mateo. She works in public healthcare and is a member of a San Francisco-based writing collaborative.