I’ve always carried a quiet joy in knowing that my birthday belongs to autumn. Not to a single date or moment, but to this whole turning of the year when the world exhales and begins to soften. Born in the doorway between summer and autumn. It feels like my season, not just because of my name, but because it mirrors the way I like to live. Gently, intentionally, with a little more attention to the details that make life beautiful.

Autumn has never felt to me like an ending, even though the trees are shedding their leaves and the gardens are winding down. To me, it feels like a settling in, a time when life asks us to notice what we’ve gathered and hold it close. It’s the season of jars lined on the pantry shelf, of recipes pulled from memory, of light that seems to linger a little longer in the kitchen. It reminds me that birthdays, too, aren’t just about moving forward in years, but about collecting what matters along the way.

I think that’s why I wanted to mark my birthday differently this year, not with balloons or candles, but with something I could share. A little gift for you, because if you’re here, you’ve become part of this season with me. I wrote this poem as a little gift for the season, a reminder of the beauty that an autumn birthday carries. You can keep it close for yourself, or pass it along to someone you love who celebrates their birthday in this golden stretch of the year. After all, birthdays feel sweeter when they’re shared.

I love the thought of us noticing together, whether it’s the first leaf that changes on your street, or the small comfort of a cup of tea warming your hands. These are the things that give autumn its texture, and they’re the kind of gifts I want to carry with me into another year of life.

So here’s to birthdays that feel like seasons, and seasons that feel like home. Thank you for being here, for reading, and for sharing this little corner with me.

Autumn