Autumn Doesn’t Need a Bucket List: 40 Small Things Worth Doing
Nothing life-changing. Just a few things worth noticing before the season passes.
Apparently, enjoying autumn now requires a wardrobe change, three seasonal beverages, a trip to an orchard, and photographic evidence that you participated.
You can do all of that, and I won’t judge. I make my own pumpkin spice latte and I’m not above a good photo of a leaf. But somewhere along the way every season picked up an unofficial list of things we’re supposed to have experienced, and I’d like to put that down for a minute.
What follows is a collection of smaller things. Most of them are free, none of them need a reservation, and you can skip any that don’t sound good. Nobody is collecting a score.
Noticing the autumn season
Autumn is mostly something you notice, and it’s easier to notice than to arrange.
Open the windows on the first properly cool morning.
Notice the first frost.
Watch one tree change over a couple of weeks. Pick the one you can see from where you sit.
Take the longer walk home.
Listen to rain on the windows.
Walk around at dusk and look at the lit windows in other people’s houses.
Notice the day autumn actually feels like autumn. It’s usually not the date on the calendar.
Hear the heater click on for the first time and have a small, private reaction to it.
It’s funny how a familiar street looks different once the light changes. The same walk to the mailbox, a different afternoon. I think this is one of the underrated pleasures of paying attention to ordinary life: you don’t have to go anywhere new, because the place you already are keeps changing on its own.
Autumn At home
The evenings start doing something different, and it’s worth going along with it.
Start a book on a rainy afternoon.
Make something warm to drink after dinner.
Spend one evening with only lamps on.
Start a puzzle and leave it on the table.
Watch an old film you’ve already seen.
Bake something on an ordinary Wednesday.
Bring out the heavier blankets.
Make a pot of soup, even a simple one.
Stay home simply because staying home sounds better.
None of these are new. You’ve read books and made tea before. The pleasure is in doing the familiar thing slightly differently because the season has shifted, the way the same sofa feels better once it’s dark by five.
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Autumn Out of the house
You don’t need an itinerary. A change of scenery can be very small.
Go to the library with no particular book in mind.
Spend an afternoon in a bookstore.
Browse a thrift shop or an antique store.
Visit a museum or gallery, ideally on a weekday.
Go somewhere before the crowds arrive.
Take a drive just to see what’s changed.
Read somewhere other than your usual spot, like a different café, a park bench, or the car with the heater on.
Buy the odd-looking apples at the farm stand, or at least the good ones from the grocery store.
Curiosity works fine at a low volume. Wandering a thrift shop for forty minutes is a perfectly good afternoon, and nobody needs to know what you were looking for.
Making, reading, remembering in Autumn
Some things are worth doing even though they produce nothing useful, which is more or less the definition of a hobby.
Write an actual letter and mail it.
Make something with your hands.
Read a short story in one sitting.
Listen to a whole album, front to back.
Keep a tiny list of things changing outside, like the first scarf, the last tomato, the day the porch light came on earlier.
Take photographs you’ll never post.
Make your favorite autumn dinner, the one you make every year and haven’t gotten tired of.
When the clocks change, spend the extra hour on purpose, not accidentally on your phone.
I’d argue the point of most of these is that there isn’t one. The letter doesn’t need to be good. The photograph doesn’t need an audience. An hour spent a certain way still counts as an hour well spent.
Time spent in Autumn that doesn't look like much
These don’t photograph well, which is why I like them.
Stay home because you want to, with no excuse ready.
Let an afternoon stay unplanned.
Wear your favorite old sweater, the one with the cuffs that are slightly past their best.
Eat dinner earlier because it’s already dark.
Sit outside under a blanket for ten minutes.
Go to bed early.
Do absolutely nothing for a while, and don’t call it self-care.
Ordinary enjoyment doesn’t need to be documented or justified, and it certainly doesn’t need a caption.
Make your own short Autumn list
You don’t have to do all forty. Please don’t. I’d rather you pick a few and mean them.
Try three prompts:
Something I want to notice:
Something I want to do:
Something I want to revisit:
Those can be as plain as watching the maple outside the kitchen window, baking the same cake as last year, or rereading a book you loved when you were nineteen.
Autumn will pass whether or not we finish a checklist. That’s not an argument against making plans. It’s just that a good season doesn’t have to be measured by how much we fit into it.
I mostly remember the small things anyway. A walk, a lamp, a rainy afternoon with a book I was supposed to be reading for some other reason.
Which one would you pick first?
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