Does Fall Actually Exist? (Did It Ever?)

Today is the first day of fall. September 22nd, 2025. I’m sitting in my favorite local coffee shop wearing shorts and a tank top, gazing out at the green trees, not a fallen leaf in sight. Maybe two red leaves are popping out of the foliage.

I’m wondering if the autumns I remember from my childhood were real or not. Or if they were real then, but they no longer exist.

My mind tells me that I was always able to jump into piles of leaves, ruining all the hard work that was just completed. I recall being annoyed about having to wear itchy sweaters (except for my rad hot pink one, which had a unicorn with a fake jewel for an eye) and shoes that required socks. I remember the joy of it finally being cool enough for hot chocolates and playing outside with my friends.

And the smell—oh, that smell!—that can only be called “fall.” That mixture of wood, rain, and smoke. If you’ve ever experienced an autumn, you know what I’m talking about. If you ever go to a place where fall is about to begin, you will instinctively know what the smell signifies.

But it’s September 22nd. And the leaves are green. The coffee shop is full of people in tanks and shorts. Many even have iced drinks. (I don’t. But that’s a matter of taste, not weather.)

When I moved to the East Coast for graduate school, I lived in Boston. It has beautiful trees, and I am sure they turned right on schedule. But I was too busy to notice. Then I moved to Virginia, and those trees definitely were more or less on time. But I was too busy to really take them in.

I wish I had paid more attention.

I am now in Kansas, and I have been for over a decade. Every year, I notice that there’s nothing to notice. I see that the leaves seem to go from green to on the ground suddenly, rather than with that burst of color we were trained to enjoy. If that smell arrives at all, it’s only for a brief time. In one single day last year, the temperature dropped 60 degrees, from the 70s to below 10. We don’t get that cool, crisp fall weather much anymore.

I don’t know if I’m relieved or saddened that I’m not the only one to notice that things are changing (well, except for the leaves). At least I know I’m not lying to myself about the aroma of fall not being as bold or lingering as it once was. As someone with pretty bad allergies, maybe I should be relieved that the smell isn’t around, as it means the world isn’t being left to decay. That used to trigger my allergies for weeks, if not months.

But I’d gladly put my new Dupixent prescription to the test to have that smell back.

I want to be outside, having a hot chocolate (with or without Kahlua) around a fire pit with my friends because the weather is finally cool enough. I want to pull my boxes of sweaters and off-brand Uggs out of the basement and say “goodbye” to my shorts and sandals for a little while. I won’t be jumping into piles of leaves because my body is no longer that of a second grader, but I’ll rake those leaves for the kids in my life. (And, okay, I’ll jump in if they ask. I’m a pushover when it comes to them.)

If the autumns of my childhood were real, I want them to have the opportunity to enjoy them like I did.

Maybe next September 22nd will be different. Cooler. More colorful. And perhaps it will even have that smell.

(P.S. If anyone knows where an adult can get a hot pink sweater with a unicorn that has a jewel for an eye, let me know. It really was rad.)