Unquiet
Things

Last year, feeling a bit downtrodden by Florida’s reluctance to embrace autumn, I made a video titled “September Magics: Manifesting Autumn.” In it, I chronicled my efforts to summon the spirit of fall, even when the weather refused to cooperate. The video was a montage of all things autumnal – from crafts to cooking, reading to perfume sampling – condensed into five minutes of cozy, magical (low production value but whatever) enchantment.

At the time, I shared a synopsis of the video here on my blog, just summing it up and sharing the links. I know a lot of people (see also: me) forego the video altogether and skip straight to any links included, I get it! This year, I’m turning that video synopsis into a full-fledged blog post, marking the beginning of what I hope will become an annual tradition. Even if the Florida weather still hasn’t gotten the memo about fall, I’m committed to bringing autumn into my life through intentional actions and cherished rituals.

So, without further ado, here are ten ways I’m manifesting autumn this year, building on the foundation I laid in last year’s video…

 

1. Through my reading

When autumn approaches, I dive into contemporary folk-horror novels. There’s something about the blend of modern settings and ancient, creeping dread that perfectly captures the essence of the season for me.

Unlike folk horror in the form of historical fiction, these stories allow me to imagine supernatural terrors unfolding in familiar surroundings, making the experience more immersive and chilling. I find myself drawn to tales that explore current societal fears through a folk-horror lens. The faster pacing and relatable characters of these contemporary stories keep me engaged, while the autumnal themes – often featuring harvests, ancient rituals, or the thinning veil between worlds – resonate deeply with the season. Whether it’s a tale of ancient rites resurfacing in a gentrifying neighborhood, a podcast investigation uncovering a town’s dark agricultural past, a social media challenge spiraling into eldritch terror, or a solstice celebration in a remote eco-community taking a sinister turn, these books help me manifest the eerie, atmospheric qualities of autumn in my imagination.

Here are some titles in this vein I have enjoyed in recent years (or as recent as last week!) A few of them may be more…folk horror-adjacent, but they have similar vibes and are too good not to mention.

The Ritual by Adam Neville // Wylding Hall by Elizabeth Hand // Experimental Film by Gemma Files // Harvest Home by Thomas Tryon // The Owl Service by Alan Garner // Childgrave by Ken Greenhall // Dark Matter by Michelle Paver // Withered Hill by David Barnett // The Watchers by A.M. Shine // Starve Acre by Andrew Michael Hurley // Pet Sematary by Stephen King // The Singing Bone by Beth Haun // The Witches and The Grinnygogg (takes place at midsummer but whatever) // Ghost Wall by Sarah Moss // The Silent Companions by Laura Purcell

Please note that many, many books could be on such a list, but I am not listing something that I haven’t read. If you don’t see one of your favorites among these titles, that could be why.

 

2. Through food and drink

Autumn is a feast for the senses, and nowhere is this more apparent than in my kitchen. I love creating hearty harvest stews and soups that capture the essence of the season. Rich, velvety butternut squash bisques, chunky vegetable stews brimming with root vegetables and tender beef, and earthy mushroom soups with wild rice all make appearances. These concoctions, simmering with seasonal herbs and warming spices like sage, thyme, and nutmeg, infuse the house with an irresistible fragrance that seems to whisper, “Fall is here, motherfuckers.” Baking becomes a weekly ritual, with aromatic loaves emerging from the oven, their crusts crackling, and interiors soft and squishy and begging to be slathered in butter or to clean your stew bowl with.

Recipes that I often return to are: Chef John’s pumpkin-braised pork // Boeuf Bourguignon // butternut squash mac & cheese // pumpkin & kale curry // apple cider doughnut cake // brown butter pumpkin oatmeal latte cookies

Even fruits–of which I am not a fan–make their way onto my countertops: pomegranates, pears, and persimmons, oh my! I usually cook them down to a compote with citrus zest, sugar, and spices…and then I make Yvan eat it over yogurts or oatmeal. I love the way they make the kitchen smell, but I am not about to eat that shit.

But it’s not just about homemade treats. I’ve become something of an amateur barista–very crappy amateur kind that screws up your drink or forgets your order altogether– recreating and putting my own spin on popular coffee house autumnal menu drinks. From pumpkin spice lattes to brown sugar pecan cappuccinos to gingersnap dirty chai*, with every experimental cup, I am trying to recreate the feeling of this 2008 October afternoon when I took this photo, styling a pair of fingerless mitts that I knit with a huge mug of tea and a pot of chrysanthemums.

*Some of these are aspirational and made up, but I am working on it!

 

3. Through decor

When it comes to autumn decorating, I’m all about strategic minimalism. DIY projects? Not my thing. Instead, I opt for a few carefully chosen, eye-catching pieces that transform my space with minimal effort.

This year, I’ve adorned my front door with a whimsical mushroom welcome mat. Inside, a cutesy (bordering on twee, but I am okay with that) felt fall leaf garland drapes across my mantel. On the coffee table, you’ll find a glass pumpkin bowl filled with candy corn – and no hate for candy corn in this house! When I can find them at the store, a vase of autumnal blooms adds a touch of seasonal color.

My favorite decorations are two felted, weighted Halloween figures I snagged from Target a few years back. One’s pumpkin-headed, the other skull-faced, and they preside over my autumn domain with a quirky charm. You might catch them overlooking my latest seasonal cooking experiment, like my homemade pumpkinmallow sauce.

This approach to autumn decor suits me perfectly. It’s just enough to satisfy my craving for seasonal change without overwhelming my space or my energy levels. After all, the best kind of decorating is the kind that leaves plenty of time for enjoying the season itself.

These small touches of autumnal decor create a cozy atmosphere that makes me want to curl up with a good book and a warm drink, fully embracing the hygge spirit of the season.

 

 

4. Through music and film

I’ve got this autumn playlist that’s all shades of wistful and melancholy. To me, they’re all secretly riffing on Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon” or The Mamas & The Papas’ “California Dreamin’.” These two represent the different ends of my internal autumn spectrum – “Harvest Moon” with its mellow, relaxed vibe and “California Dreamin'” bringing a more intense, melodramatic feel. Everything else on the playlist seems to echo the magic of these two somehow…even if it’s gothy folk metal or experimental ambient electronica!

These songs intensify my natural introspection as if giving permission to fully embrace that side of myself. It’s become my little autumn ritual, a way to explore the depths of my thoughts as the world changes around me. And then, of course, there’s the Over the Garden Wall soundtrack – absolutely perfect in every way. Those folksy, slightly eerie tunes set the perfect mood for all my autumn activities, be it cooking, reading, or just watching the leaves turn.

I should note that this music is all pre-Halloween. Post-Halloween is completely different. November 1st and beyond gets gloomy, sonorous cellos. Unearthly violins. Ghostly theremins. Awash with mournful motifs and evocative of dusk fall grey and cold, eerie midnight winds and candlelit windows. I wrote more about this “Night Music” and shared several examples over on the bloodmilk blog several years ago.

When it comes to films, my autumn viewing leans heavily into the realm of the spooky and atmospheric. As the nights grow longer, I find myself drawn to movies that blend eerie vibes with that distinct autumnal feeling. John Carpenter’s Halloween is a perennial favorite – it’s practically a ritual to watch Michael Myers stalk through leaf-strewn streets as October draws near. For a more intense, party-gone-wrong vibe, Night of the Demons hits the spot with its deliciously ’80s take on Halloween horror. And when I’m in the mood for something more psychedelic and witchy, Rob Zombie’s Lords of Salem provides a trippy, unsettling journey that somehow feels perfectly aligned with those hazy, late autumn afternoons.

These films might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but for me, they capture something essential about the season – a mix of nostalgia, unease, and that weird, wonderful comfort found in embracing the darker, more mysterious aspects of fall. I’m especially excited for this autumn because I’ll be watching Something Wicked This Way Comes for the first time! I’ve heard it’s the perfect blend of dark fantasy and autumn atmosphere, and I can’t wait to add it to my fall repertoire. For the last several years I have done 31 Days of Horror, wherein I watch a scary movie every day and then blog about it, so if that piques your interest, check back next month when I get started on this year’s month-long marathon!

 

 

5. Through planting fall vegetables

Autumn isn’t just about harvesting; it’s also a time for planting. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself every year. The truth is, I’m not much of a gardener. The idea of getting my hands dirty in the cool earth and sowing seeds for fall vegetables is far more appealing than the actual act. I don’t test the soil, I never fertilize, pruning is a foreign concept, and more often than not, I forget to water. Any success I’ve had in growing anything is mostly due to dumb luck, despite Florida’s challenging climate.

But oh, how I love the idea of it all. Every autumn, I do the bare minimum – maybe toss some seeds into a pot or two – always thinking that any day now, a switch is going to flip and I’ll suddenly transform into this amazing, dedicated gardener who goes the extra mile. It hasn’t happened yet, but hope springs eternal. Or autumns eternal, as the case may be.

Being in Florida offers some unique opportunities for autumn planting, but it’s not without its challenges, even for experienced gardeners (which I am decidedly not). Our longer growing season is a double-edged sword – sure, we can plant later, but we also have to contend with intense heat that can scorch young plants and unpredictable rainfall that can either drown or parch them. Leafy greens like kale and spinach, or root vegetables such as carrots and beets, are supposed to be good for fall planting. I’ve thrown some of these seeds around before, and occasionally, against all odds and the whims of Florida weather, they’ve decided to grow.

The act of planting, minimal as it may be, still connects me to the idea of the cyclical nature of the seasons. It’s a reminder that in Florida, the rhythm of nature marches to a slightly different, and often challenging beat – perfect for aspiring gardeners who are long on dreams and short on follow-through, and who can appreciate the irony of trying to create autumn in a place that often feels like eternal summer.

 

 

6. Through cozy autumn clothing

When it comes to autumn fashion in Florida, forget the heavy sweaters and cozy scarves – sometimes even in October, we’re still sweating it out in the 90s. But that doesn’t mean I can’t bring a touch of fall to my wardrobe. It’s all about getting creative with lighter fabrics and subtle nods to the season.

My autumn wardrobe conjuring act starts with warm harvest colors. A russet-colored cardigan becomes my go-to layer for overzealous air conditioning, easily removed when I step back into the Florida heat. Underneath, you’ll find me in t-shirts that hint at autumn’s darker side without screaming “Halloween!” (Although I do have at least one really good one.) There’s my favorite bat conservation tee, a subtle nod to the season’s flying mammals. Horror movie tees make regular appearances – nothing says “fall is coming” quite like a vintage Cryptkeeper graphic. And for other days, I’ve got my enthusiasm literally spelled out, on my “the season for goblins and witches is upon us” tee. And when the temps drop to at least 70, I am throwing on my Haunted sweatshirt from Altar & Orb!

Accessories are where the real autumn magic happens. Ghost socks make an appearance, peeking out from under my sandals (sandals in autumn – Florida life!). Earrings with tiny autumn leaves and clackering bones, or a light scarf with a subtle spiderweb pattern add that autumnal touch without causing heat stroke.

Layering becomes an art form, but with a lighter touch. That russet cardigan might find its way over a mustard-yellow tank top, or I might opt for a thin, flowing kimono-style cover-up over my Brett Manning-illustrated dress. (P.S. Brett’s artwork is in my book The Art of Fantasy, and you can read more about this artist here.) The goal is to channel those cozy autumn vibes without adding too much warmth – it’s all about creating the illusion of fall layers while staying cool in the relentless heat.

The key is to embrace the spirit of the season without letting the thermometer dictate my style entirely. It might not be the traditional autumn look, but it’s my way of thumbing my nose at the persistent summer and welcoming fall on my own terms.

 

 

7. Through evocative fragrances

Scent is a powerful trigger for memories and moods, and I use it to manifest autumn regardless of the weather outside. When it comes to personal fragrances, I’m drawn to scents that evoke those impossibly dark nights when the veil between worlds feels thin, and every shadow might be hiding something otherworldly.

This year, I’m revisiting some favorites from last year’s autumn fragrance lineup. Zoologist Bat, with its damp earth and overripe fruit notes, captures the essence of early autumn evenings. Chris Collins’ Autumn Rhythm brings to mind the rhythmic crunch of leaves underfoot and the incense of chilled smoke clinging to a cashmere sweater in a sophisticated fragrance that is the epitome of Ray Bradbury’s “autumn people–” if they were monied and super posh.

This year, I’m adding Neil Morris’s Chasing Autumn to my autumnal rotation: a fragrance that captures the essence of the autumn I’ve always yearned for while living in Florida’s endless summer, evoking Millais’ melancholic “Autumn Leaves,” Emily Brontë’s invocational poetry, and the underlying eerie atmosphere of “Over the Garden Wall” – all distilled into a scent that brings to life crackling bonfires, rustling leaves, and the slightly foreboding mystery of an autumnal otherworld, allowing me to immerse myself in the fall feeling that exists more in my mind than in my subtropical reality.

On the lighter side of my autumn fragrance spectrum, I’m also incorporating Tartan by Sarah Baker Perfumes: a scent that deftly balances the sweetness of October with acrid leather and peaty whiskey, conjuring images of wooly moss, molten gold sunlight, and migrating geese – a fragrance that reveals different facets with each wearing, much like the ever-changing moods of autumn itself.

And, of course, I can’t talk about autumnal fragrances without mentioning the Weenies (Halloween and autumn scents) from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab. They are the premier no.1 experts in conjuring the olfactory enchantments of the autumn season. Every year, they explore strange new depths in diablerie to bring us perfumes that conjure dead leaf-maple ghost-pumpkin blood-moon hag-scented nightmares, and I am eagerly anticipating this year’s collection! I have a feeling it will be available any day now. Wearing, musing upon, and penning reviews of these fragrances is a staple of my Halloween season, and if you are curious about what you can look forward to, here is nearly 10 years’ worth of BPAL Weenie reviews to peruse: 2023 // 2022 // 2021 // 2020 // 2019 // 2018 // 2017 // 2016 

While I don’t love pumpkin spice perfumes, I do seek them out in candles. There’s something comforting about filling my home with the warm, spicy aroma of pumpkin, cinnamon, and nutmeg. It’s like being enveloped in the essence of autumn, even when the temperature outside says otherwise. I’ll often light a pumpkin spice candle while curled up with a book, creating my own little autumn oasis.

By surrounding myself with these evocative scents, I can close my eyes and be transported to an autumnal wonderland, regardless of the actual season outside my window. It’s a small act of olfactory rebellion against Florida’s persistent summer, and a cherished part of my autumn ritual.

 

8. Through comforting knitting projects

As the days grow shorter, I find myself reaching for my knitting needles more often. There’s something inherently autumnal about the rhythmic click of needles and the soft yarn running through my fingers. This year, I’m working on a new cozy shawl project, after nine months of letting my wrist heal! The act of creating something warm and comforting feels like the perfect way to usher in the season.

My current project is a simple shawl, perfect for easing my sore wrist back into the craft. I’m using two strands of laceweight yarn held together – one an obsidian cashmere, the other a smoky silver-grey silk. The combination creates a foggy night effect that feels quintessentially autumnal. It’s not a huge or intricate project, but there’s something so meditative and lovely about the simple, repetitive stitches.

I find myself working on this shawl in the evenings while watching Evil – a show that perfectly complements the mood of my knitting. As I loop yarn around my needles, I’m drawn into a world where the lines between science and the supernatural blur, where skepticism and faith collide. The show’s eerie atmosphere and moral ambiguity create an oddly fitting backdrop for crafting a cozy shawl.

There’s something about the perpetually autumn/winter atmosphere of Evil that I find irresistible. The Bouchard’s house under the train trestle, the grey skies, and bare trees create a gloomy yet perfect backdrop that feels like the autumn I’m always chasing. Sure, the show can be a little goofy at times, but it’s compelling nonetheless. Its visual palette of perpetual autumn is a stark contrast to the endless summer outside my window, making it the perfect companion to my knitting sessions. Michael Emerson as Leland Townsend is a maniacal treat–and HOW does he look exactly the same as he did 20 years ago in Lost??

 

9. Through mindful nature walks

Even in Florida, where autumn’s touch is subtle, I make an effort to connect with nature and spot the small signs of the changing season. My neighborhood, graced with many old oak trees (about half of which are in my very own yard…or at least it feels like that when I am cleaning up post-hurricane detritus), provides the perfect setting for these mindful walks.

I prefer to venture out in the liminal hours – just before sunrise or as the sun is setting. Partly to avoid the brutal heat of the evil day star, but also as a squirrelly introvert, I just don’t like people looking at me. These quiet hours offer a cocoon of solitude, allowing me to immerse myself fully in the experience.

Our proximity to the river adds another layer to these walks. The air feels different near the water, carrying a hint of moisture and the promise of cooler days. From the back of the neighborhood, which overlooks a major bridge, I can see the headlights of early morning commuters – a distant sign of life as I stand in the pre-dawn quiet.

In these hours, my familiar surroundings transform. I observe slight shifts in the oak leaves, watching for subtle changes that signal the season’s turn. The quality of light itself becomes a marker of autumn’s approach, its angle shifting almost imperceptibly as summer wanes. Migrating birds, their silhouettes dark against the sky, offer the most reliable signs of autumn’s arrival.

These walks are a mindful practice, grounding me in the subtle seasonal shifts that might otherwise pass unnoticed. Surrounded by ancient oaks and with the river nearby, I can almost convince myself that autumn has truly arrived, even as the day’s heat waits just around the corner.

 

10. Through Autumn Reflection and Renewal

As the leaves sloo-owly change and the year winds down, autumn offers a gentle invitation for introspection, quiet goal-setting, and subtle personal renewal. This season of transition, with its sense of things drawing to a close, naturally inclines us towards observation, reflection, and preparation for the coming quietude. This is where it gets a little cheesy, but stick with me here; it’s all in service of ushering in a big autumn mood.

This year, I’m cautiously embracing the reflective spirit of autumn in a few ways. Autumn-themed journaling is on my list, though I’m almost too self-conscious to admit it. I’ve got a few fall-themed writing prompts that I’m considering; this is where things get really cheesy, and I’m slightly mortified to be sharing this, but… I might actually ponder questions like, “What would I like to let go of, like leaves falling from a tree?” and “If my life were a harvest, what fruits am I reaping now?” I might even describe my perfect autumn day, from dawn to dusk, even if it’s more fantasy than reality here in Florida. (I can feel myself cringing as I type this, but there’s something about autumn that makes even this level of sentimentality seem almost acceptable.)

I’m also setting some autumn goals, channeling that residual “back to school” energy into my own little “Fall Semester.” I’ve got three specific objectives in mind:

First, reading – I’m always reading, typically juggling half a dozen fictional stories on my e-reader at any given time. But for autumn, I’m making a concerted effort to dive into some nonfiction, which I prefer to read in physical form at my desk (it’s easier on the wrists and eyes, you know?). I’ve got Katherine May’s Wintering and Robert Macfarlane’s The Old Ways lined up. May’s exploration of the power of rest and retreat seems particularly fitting for the season, while Macfarlane’s deep dive into ancient paths and the human connection to landscape feels like the perfect companion for my autumnal musings.

Second, cooking – I want to try my hand at making pozole. It’s a rich, warming stew with flavors I don’t typically cook with, and I’m eager to expand my culinary horizons. There’s something about the combination of hominy, meat, and aromatic spices that feels perfect for those rare cooler days we might get. Plus, the process of preparing it – the slow simmering, the melding of flavors – seems like a meditative autumn activity in itself.

Lastly, bird watching – Here’s the thing – I was born 90 years old. I’ve always been an old soul, and I’ve finally decided to lean into it by getting serious about bird watching. As the autumn migrations begin, I’ll be out there with my binoculars, probably wearing a cardigan and sensible shoes, learning to identify the species that pass through Florida. I’m settling into being the charming eccentric I was always destined to be, and I’m not even mad about it.

These goals are my way of embracing the season’s introspective energy, even if the weather outside doesn’t quite match the autumnal mood I’m cultivating. Between the books, the new culinary adventure, and my newfound ornithological pursuits, I’ll be living my best autumn life, Florida style.

Bonus: Through the Magic of Art

Oh, how could I forget? ART. This post is liberally peppered with autumnal paintings ranging from the Pre-Raphaelites to still lifes, to fairytale illustrations. Because if I can’t have real autumn leaves outside my window, I can at least feast my eyes on rendered ones, right? I really shouldn’t have forgotten art, because I did a whole-ass blog post about it only two years ago!

I’ve included works like John Melhuish Strudwick’s “A Story Book,” which captures that cozy, introspective autumn mood I’m constantly chasing. There’s Arthur Rackham’s “A Dish of Apples,” because nothing says fall like a a couple of creepy goblins and an apple tree. John Atkinson Grimshaw’s “An October Afterglow” gives us that perfect melancholic autumn twilight that Florida stubbornly refuses to deliver.

For a more whimsical take, there’s Giuseppe Arcimboldo’s “Autumn,” because sometimes you just need to see a face made of seasonal produce to really get into the fall spirit. And, of course, what’s an autumn art collection without Andrew Wyeth’s iconic “Autumn,” capturing the stark beauty of the season in a way that makes me yearn desperately for bitingly crisp air the crunch of leaves underfoot, and a crow cawing for your attentuion just outside the frame?

These paintings serve as windows into the autumn of my imagination, portals to a season that exists more in my mind than in my subtropical reality. They’re a visual manifestation of the fall feels I’m trying to conjure, proof that even if I can’t change the weather, I can at least change the view.

What autumn rituals do you practice to welcome the season? Share your favorite ways to manifest fall in the comments below!

 

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