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This is the audio version of my weekly newsletter, Experiential Hospitality, where I share stories and insights to help you craft unforgettable spaces and experiences through design & hospitality.
How beautifully leaves grow old, how full
of light and color are their last days?
John Burrows.
I love when seasons change,
especially this one.
This transition is particularly
cherished because fall is my favorite
and summer is my least favorite.
I grew up in the South where
summer never seems to end.
And this is the week or close to it,
you can finally feel its grip weakening.
Helen and I have electric bikes
and a trailer that is perfect
for our two little boys to ride.
In the last several evenings, we've taken
rides around our farm and community.
It may seem a little muggy if you
just stand outside, but get on a bike
and glide through the air at 20 miles
per hour without working too hard.
You'll feel downright chilly.
I love being out there at dusk, hearing,
seeing and smelling all the delights
of a late summer country evening.
The boys love it too.
They smile and watch the darkening
world go by a glowing red light
behind mommy's seat leading the way.
We ride all the way to the homestead
where I grew up about a mile away.
Memories flood me every time I get near.
The gardens.
We grew the backyard full of trees.
I used to climb and build
forts in our family.
Painstakingly cleared
that they get the spring.
We moved there when I was six.
We were the only house for a long
ways, so my dad built a road almost
a half mile long just to get to it.
Now over a dozen other
houses line the road.
And then there's the mine.
When I was nine or 10, I decided
to dig a mine in a random spot in
our backyard, about a foot down
my shovel clinked on something.
Over 20 Flint ax heads stashed away by
Indians hundreds of years before, but
that's another story for another time.
Each memory that's triggered
feels like pulling old books
off shelves of a library.
I'd forgotten I was filling.
I am 28 now and I can personally
confirm the cliche time flies
a little bit like the wind in your face
on a late summer evening bike ride.
I love the change of seasons in spite of
the fact it spells the passing of time.
So much of our modern
life is about saving time.
But it's good to remember that the
things that matter most happen by
spending it well, time flies, but
if it's spent well, then it's not
something to be moan, but to celebrate.
So let the seasons change.
Bring on autumn, and then winter.
Every season is beautiful, but
to me, this one is the most.
Now start taking those evening walks
or bike rides if you haven't already.
Down your own road and down memory lane.
Time flies.
Don't miss it.