The Autumn and Winter of Our Lives
2026-02-25
by Becca DeKay-Robson
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This was originally published by Personal Historians Network West on 2026-01-06. You can read the original here.
Autumn is one of my favorite times of the year, and I know I’m not alone in my love of the season. My heart is whole as I’m able to experience all the natural events that unfold as September turns to October, and then to November. Temperatures drop, the morning air is crisp, and frost dusts the tips of trees and plants. Wood smoke curls in the air and sweetens it. Crackles are regularly heard as plants feel the dawning sun and thaw from its golden touch. Warm colors develop in the leaves of plants and become richer every day. All of my senses are bathed in a constant wash of the beauty of the season.
As I prepare for winter, I am often working outside for part of the day. During this time, I feel as if I am trying to consume the beauty around me. As much as I try, I realize it is unconsumable and ever-changing. Time is strong-willed and boldly resists our attempts to control it, continuously marching on without regard for my preferences. With a nod to Time’s superiority, I keep myself open to experience awe in the impermanent way of nature. I feel as if my head is always on a swivel, trying to take everything in before it surrenders to the winter.
Recently, while driving through a region of upland prairie, my eyes were absorbing the warm colors and delicious textures around me. A question popped into my head: does my love of autumn mean I am delighting in the ending of life? My reaction was disgust at the connection I had made. It was ghastly, morbid.
My brain was reeling at that implication, so I sat with my discomfort and reasoned it through. Why is it that autumn brings me such joy?
Last year, I had several meetings with a prospective client whose personal and professional mission was to support others through the Autumns and Winters of their lives. Through our conversations, I gradually learned that she was in her own personal Winter as she was succumbing to a terminal illness. Rather than give up living day to day, she moved forward like a freight train, continuing to give the most good she could to the world. I admire her strength and passion for life; she exhibited beauty and grace as she faced the inevitable. She passed away shortly after we talked.
Her perspective and mission had a significant impact on me. Every living thing on the earth is marching towards its own Winter. This should be a time we meet with dignity and reflection. For some, there will be a sense of accomplishment; for others, regret; and most likely, a mix. We all have lived an impactful story, filled with the things that make us imperfect and beautiful human beings.
In her book Wired for Story, Lisa Cron defines story as “about how we, rather than the world around us, change.” This change is part of the lived experience and is not unique to any of us, although the path we take to be changed is different. We are refined in one way or another through the marching of Time. Each of us has individual chapters, or Seasons, that culminate in our Story. This personal Story and our resulting wisdom can only be achieved through lived experiences, and they are meant to be shared and reflected upon.
Near my house are several groves of aspen trees. Their leaves are constantly shivering and trembling, making a fluttering noise, soft and delicate but very distinct. When a breeze comes through a grove, the first aspen starts excitedly whispering, until the next tree joins in, and the next. It's almost as if the trees are communicating, telling their Story to those in their circle. During the autumn season, the energetic fluttering continues until the motion releases individual yellow leaves from the tree, which gracefully glide to the ground below. It’s as if those individual stories have been shared and passed on, and in the Autumn of their lives, the host can release them, having done their due diligence, to the ravages of Time in preparation for Winter.
We are similar to the aspens, for whom change and growth are constants. Beauty is achieved through the contrast of what was and what is now, a theme of all stories.
To answer my question, why does autumn bring me such joy? Perhaps it is because it is fleeting and a season of reflection influenced by Time and Story.
And that is beautiful.
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