More than leaf-peeping: How noticing the seasonal changes can make our lives richer

There's a lot on our minds as we head into election week. Don't let that stop you from pausing to take in what's happening around you.

Lots of people resist the changing of the seasons. It’s totally understandable. They cling to the last day of summer or begrudge those first beautiful snowflakes and prepare to shut down for the next five months. I get it. I often find myself clinging to those last days of summer. Hard. But there’s no good to be had by resisting the change of seasons. When things are changing around you, and beyond your control, you’ve got a choice. You can fight it or you can embrace it. Fighting it won’t change anything. Embracing it can change everything. 

Just on the edge of my small town in Vermont, there’s a chunk of forest littered with different trails—little offshoots that have been created over the years by hikers and mountain bikers. I’ve done dozens of trail runs in these woods. I can’t even begin to describe the number of times I’ve gotten lost in these woods. The woods are so dense that you can take off on one random trail and suddenly have no idea where you are. The chunk of forest is small—probably no more than 2 square miles in all—but the trails work like a labyrinth, winding with no reason. Running those trails is an adventure, and every time is different. 

What’s most magical about experiencing these trails, though, is taking in the impact of the seasons. By the end of the summer, maybe, I’ve developed confidence in my routes. I’ve formed some signposts in my mind to look out for. I’ve become light on my feet, easily able to avoid the rocks and crevices begging to trip me. Once those leaves drop?  The experience becomes completely different. The forest becomes carpeted in brilliant red, yellow, and orange leaves. All the trails are hidden and whatever sign points I’d grown used to become useless. The leaves make it more slippery and hide the rocks. I need to think about every step. Fall brings hunting season as well, and there’s gunshots in the distance. The dogs wear bright orange vests, and I must keep them close.  Over the next few months, we develop new routines, signposts, running styles.  And then the weather changes again, making everything different. The experience starts a-new, again, over, and over. 

It's all the same woods. It’s all the same trails. But the changes force me to engage, presenting different challenges, that generate different emotions. These are the seeds of psychological richness, an aspect of the good life that we’re just starting to learn about, but whose positive impact on our lives is clear. Our lives are fuller when we engage our minds, when we bring curiosity and a sense of wonder to our day-to-day and allow them to take off. We think new thoughts, we feel a range of emotions. Our perspective shifts, even if ever so slightly. Psychological richness enhances our lives. And we can get it simply by noticing the changes around us and allowing them to spark out minds.

[ Want more? This is an adaptation from my new book, The Art of the Interesting. Get your copy today!]