Late September Light

And some thoughts on heading back to school

I love fall. I love it for so many reasons. First and foremost, it’s a reprieve from the summer’s heat. It also gives me permission to begin to hibernate. I like drinking hot drinks all day, wearing jackets, and generally slowing down. Another reason that I love fall is the light—more specifically, the late afternoon light. It’s golden, and comes in at an angle that isn’t nearly as harsh as the light in June or July. It’s softer, friendlier, and makes everything glow.

Yesterday, I took part in one of my university’s traditions called “First Night Out.” On this first night of the first day of classes, hundreds of students gather in the main square to exhibitors and live music and speakers, then make their way, parade-style, downtown. There, they are encouraged to explore all of the food and shopping that our downtown has to offer. It’s really a wonderful tradition that brings with it a festive, joyful feel. And as I was being swept along by the parade, I couldn’t help but notice the light. It was radiant!

The way it was filtering through the leaves, and in some cases (in the photo above) creating halos around the students, turning them practically angelic!

Depending on where people were standing, the light took on different tones. I noticed this man cheering the students on from his balcony high above the parade route. Here, the light was harsh, but still warm:

In this case, some people were watching from a window inside their apartment. This light was flat, but it appears that the people are lit from behind:

As the students progressed downtown, the light continued to fade, while continuing to light the students from behind:

After the celebration ended downtown, I had a long-ish, very uphill walk back to my parking lot on campus. As I walked, I couldn’t help but get nostalgic for my own college days, and how the fall just hit different. I remember walking across campus at dusk, as all of the resident starlings began singing as they searched for a spot to roost for the night. I remember, too, the sound of late-summer crickets and other insects adding to the chorus. Campuses always seem busier in a different way during the early evening, and impossibly beautiful.

As I returned to my car, I stopped to notice some of the houses along the way. Many of them are Victorian, built in the late 1800s and still standing (and looking gorgeous) after all these years:

What must this seaside town have looked like back when this house was new? What must life have been like? I know that for many (mostly women and children), it wasn’t great. Unless, of course, you were wealthy enough to live in a house like this.

Across the street, this tree stands above the entrance to campus:

The tree itself is somewhat nondescript, but again, that light! It warms everything up (in a non-aggressive way) and adds that softness that photographers just don’t get in the high summer months.

Here’s one of the older buildings on our campus, bathed in that same, warm light:

The last photo I took before I made it back to my car was of a lone bunch of maple leaves that the light happened to be hitting just so:

I guess it’s no surprise that seeing this light and being in this place made me nostalgic for my own fall college days. The classes, the football games, the band performances, the promise of a new academic year. This fall marks my 34th fall on a college campus, either as a student or as a professor. That’s a lot of falls! And this fall is no different—that optimism, that hope that the energy of thousands of college students can generate. Even though times are dark in this current national/political moment, there is always the fall, and the soft light that comes with it, making all of the edges seem a little less sharp.