If I could design a day that felt exactly like fall, this would be it—not a day packed with things I have to do, but one filled with things I genuinely want to do. Fall lands on September 22 this year and I have already started embracing it.
I would start early, when the morning air has that first little chill that makes you think about pulling on a sweater. Before doing much of anything else, I’d get a pot of vegetable soup going in the slow cooker. There is something wonderfully reassuring about knowing dinner is already taking care of itself while onions, tomatoes, vegetables, and herbs slowly turn into something warm and comforting.
Then I’m off for a fall haircut. Nothing drastic necessarily—just that fresh-cut feeling that somehow seems right when the seasons change. Fall always makes me want to make little changes of my own.
Back home, the soup would be simmering and it would officially be time to visit Stars Hollow. I’m giving myself permission to watch four episodes of Gilmore Girls. Not while folding laundry. Not while answering emails. Just watching. Preferably under a throw with something warm to drink.
At some point, though, all those New England autumn colors are going to make me want to paint. I'll pull out my watercolors and paint an autumn scene—nothing that needs to be perfect or frame-worthy. Maybe a tree just beginning to turn, fallen leaves along a path, or the golden light that seems to belong only to this time of year. I'll simply paint what fall feels like to me.
And because every perfect fall day needs a book, I'll return to an old friend: Anne of Green Gables. I won't reread the whole novel. Instead, I'll seek out some of those passages where Anne notices the changing season with such enthusiasm and wonder. Anne has a way of reminding me that noticing beauty is an activity all by itself.
Later, I'll head to our local library for book club. A library, books, conversation, and other readers feels especially appropriate on the first day of fall. I'll linger a little if I can. Libraries are places that should never be rushed.
And eventually, I'll come home to the best part about putting soup in the slow cooker that morning: dinner is waiting for me.
A bowl of vegetable soup, maybe some crusty bread, and a quiet evening at home seem like exactly the right ending.
There is nothing particularly grand about my Fall Solstice Day. That's precisely why I love it.
Something simmering. Something changing. Something painted. Something read. Something shared. And plenty of time to notice that fall has arrived.
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