Golden light on the pond.
A beautiful, enchanting summer comes to its end. After so many warm and even hot summer days, it begins its retreat. Endless beach days and beautiful memories in light clothes. Pure weightlessness. A little melancholy, a little longing for one last hurrah, but the transformation of the seasons knows no mercy. A brief mourning gives way to the upcoming season. Now the morning fog hangs thick in the air, the wind starts to blow a bit harder, and the warmth is fighting to stay a bit longer, but it already fails to do so at night, now regularly. Rain comes down in showers, and from time to time decides to stay a bit longer, before the sun shines through the thickened clouds again. The leaves slowly change their colors, the air we breathe changes its smell and feels more crisp, and just like that, fall is upon us.
The fall season brings us not only candlelight, the smell of bonfires, cuddling under blankets, and football season, but also delicious food and warm drink choices. Finally, we can enjoy a hot chocolate or a pumpkin spice latte, munch on roasted corn on the cob, and devour mouthwatering apple-smoked ribs, hearty stews, stuffed turkey, wild game, and mushroom dishes, all while enjoying a good, well-crafted bock beer.
Candlelight, pumpkins and a warm cup.
My favorite part of this time of year is getting the cozy clothes out again. Every time it is like opening a mystery box and finding new joy and surprises in the cozy wardrobe stash. Out come the chunky sweaters, the soft scarves, the warm jackets, the thick wool socks that waited all summer for their turn, and the warm brown leather boots. There is something comforting about pulling them out of the closet, and about the first morning when you actually need them.
The afternoon belongs to the woods. The path winds through the grounds of an old country estate, which carries you off to another world, a place of calm and reflection, far away from the hectic bustling noise of the city. The tall trees are still greenish, but they are slowly changing into their red, orange, and brownish dress, and the leaves that have already fallen crunch under every step. In the middle of it hides a well-curated Japanese garden, which opens its gates only twice a year, in spring and again in October, and offers a natural feeling of perfection in imperfect surroundings.
Autumn, painted in pink and gold at Langoed Clingendael
The low autumn sun pushes thin golden beams through the branches, and the whole forest seems to glow from within. Spiderwebs hang between the branches, covered in tiny drops of dew that sparkle like glass beads. Brown mushrooms peek out of the moss under the big trees, and a squirrel dashes across the path with an acorn in its mouth, busy preparing for winter. Horses stroll over a meadow, grazing in blissful calm. Far above me, a flock of geese flies south in a V shape, calling out to each other. The air is crisp and smells of damp earth and pine. Somewhere along the way, I find a few shiny chestnuts on the ground, smooth and warm brown, and I cannot help but put a couple into my pocket to decorate my home. At the end of the path, a small stand already sells Dutch winter fried pastries specialties, apple beignets and oliebollen, hot from the fryer and dusted with powdered sugar, the perfect snack for a cold afternoon.
Golden beams in the autumn woods.
Then the first drops of rain arrive, right on schedule, and I duck into a cozy cafe at the edge of the woods. I order a warm pumpkin spice latte with a little cinnamon on top and wrap both hands around the cup. I watch the rain run down the window while people rush past outside with their rain jackets and collars turned up. It is the small pleasure that turns an ordinary afternoon into something special.
By the time I get home, the rain has stopped and the light is fading. While the last sunrays of the evening disappear. We light a small bonfire on the patio, gather around it with mugs of hot chocolate and bock beer, roast marshmallows, and stack them into s'mores, immersing ourselves in the crackling sounds of the burning wood and the dancing flames.
Crackling wood and dancing flames.
When the cold finally chases us inside, the candles are lit and fill the room with a soft, flickering glow, and the blankets are spread all over the couch. A board game, Rummikub, is pulled out, and on the screen, an American football game begins. The crowd roars, and the living room turns into a rollercoaster of emotions: hope, frustration, laughter, a lucky break, a painful miss, and finally a long drive down the field that ends in a touchdown. Pure joy and exhaustion in one. By now, the couch has officially turned into a cardio machine.
I stroll over to the kitchen, jazz playing softly in the background, finishing the pumpkin soup. Then the table is set, and the best part of the day begins. The feast. The pumpkin soup, smoked ribs, roasted corn on the cob, and a hearty stew, accompanied by all kinds of seasonal vegetables, make their way around the table while the game murmurs in the background. A bottle of Pinot Noir, deep ruby red and warm in the candlelight, is poured into the glasses.
Everything I have been dreaming about since the last summer days at the beach is finally in front of me. The melancholy and sorrow over the end of summer have given way to pure joy and gezelligheid, the Dutch feeling of cozy togetherness that comes with the darker days of the year. A season of letting go has become a season of coming together and cozy nesting as the days grow shorter.
This is what fall feels like, and this is what fall should taste like. Let the feast begin.