Autumn's brevity is a sneaky little thing, both an element to despise and one to be grateful for in helping us cherish the season ever more. For the last eighteen or so years, any spare moment - weekends and walks home after class - was dedicated to relishing crunchy, colorful leaves and cozy evenings curled under a heavy blanket with a thick Harry Potter book. More often than not, just when the chill dropped acceptably to the mid-50's, the temperature would plummet. A big storm would strip the trees bare and winter would shake the frost off her coat as she made herself home. That's the northeast for ya.
This past season felt different. The leaves lingered on their branches through to Thanksgiving, inviting magic to wander into mundane car rides for longer. Without the frenetic rhythm of prelims, deadlines, and finals, I found myself investing a long-term mindset towards other projects. Professionally, limbo introduced a new way to experience time, one that's still training me to increase my tolerance to uncertainty and discomfort, all while disallowing short-sightedness the opportunity to disenfranchise the season of her characteristic spirit. The unexpected email from old camera club buddies and church families often triggered a mixed bag of feelings (so! many!). Yet a counteracting moment, however, be it apple picking with family friends who love us to the bones or catching up with childhood friends in-person, would sustain my footing as I walk in the center of tension.
I'm learning to deeply and unapologetically embrace being in the present, which appears to lean more towards a daily attitude of patience and gratitude than a one-time commitment. To the tune of "All too well," apple cakes from five (and counting) countries have emerged from our oven, novels and cookbooks were devoured over steaming bowls of soup, and obligatory (but increasing unforced) family dinners were shared after a sunset bike ride... and boy is that refreshing to say after a year in isolation and many more tending to our family soil.
In learning to speak German, I came across the word gemütlich, which, when translated, loosely means cozy. Much like the Danish word hygge, it generates the soothing quality of being "at-home," content, well. The photos I'm excited to share celebrate the rituals that helped me cultivate that state of gemütlich, discovering comfort, pleasure and warmth in the simple things. This season was certainly marked by new risks, but they don't leave the same footprints as the little things I cherish. I don't have to wait long to look back and realize that they were some of the biggest blessings that graced fall of 2021.
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