Here they come. The autumn enjoyers. Swaddled in their comfy sweaters. Sipping their Pumpkin Spice Lattes. Burbling on about how nice it is that it’s cold and dark and wet outside. 

Look, I like a crisp October morning as much as anyone. The crunch of leaves? Delightful. All Saints’ Day? Amazing! And I know that if it was spring and summer all the time, I wouldn’t appreciate those seasons as much as I do. I’m over feeling sad about the end of the summer. We shouldn’t let the seasons be the king of our emotions.

But people who claim that autumn is their favourite season — and they are out there, believe me they are out there — are incomprehensible. Do they really prefer it when it is dark at 6pm? Are they really happier when it is cold than when it’s warm? If one lives in Florida, fair enough. But if one lives in northern Europe?

Most of it involves bumbling through the wind and the drizzle as the wet leaves clog the drains

Again, I see the blessings of the crisp air and crunchy leaves. But how much of autumn lives up to that ideal? Most of it involves bumbling through the wind and the drizzle as the wet leaves clog the drains.

There are festivals in autumn, of course, but most are dead or distant. Oktobertfest is for Bavarians. All Saints’ Day is largely celebrated in Central and Eastern Europe (where I live). Halloween is a glorified fancy dress party — and there’s nothing wrong with fancy dress parties but its transgressive and spiritual elements have drowned in a sea of “sexy vampire” outfits.

So, what’s going on here? Sometimes people seem to like the sense of sheltering from the elements. Knowing that it is cold or wet outside enhances the feeling of cosiness indoors. Well, of course it’s nice to enjoy the privilege — and it is a privilege — of shelter. But you know what’s nicer than feeling warm inside? Feeling warm outdoors! And you don’t have to pay for that as well.

Some of these people, one suspects — not all, but some — just enjoy having an excuse not to go outside. All summer they were haunted by the sense that they should be socialising or exercising. Then the cold and rain come and they have a great excuse for mouldering inside.

Others seem to enjoy the aesthetics of decline — the melancholy of the falling leaves and the darkening skies. Certainly, I can see where these people are coming from. Decline is a fact of life and we have to deal with it. There is no such thing as an eternal summer.

Yet as much as I enjoy the poems of Philip Larkin, I sense a sort of self-indulgent morbidity here. Most of us will end up experiencing about eighty autumns. Yes, I can see how the falling of a leaf could provide a valuable moment for reflection on the impermanence of things. It is good to be aware of ageing and of death. But not all the time! After such moments, we have to live in spite of the decline around us because our own is so much more gradual. To dwell on the efficient inevitability of the stripping of branches and the blackening of skies is to risk depressing your own potential for flourishment. You are not a tree that must endure such regular spells of barrenness. Unless you have suffered serious misfortune — in which case my heart goes out to you — you can “begin afresh, afresh” throughout the changing year.

I think some of the vocal autumn enjoyers are displaying a kind of pseudo-maturity. They are too deep and sophisticated for the simple pleasures of the sunshine. Well, there’s certainly maturity to accepting the changing of the seasons, and to appreciating the beauty that can be found in different forms of nature, and to maximising the potential of each period of life. To the extent that I get cantankerous about the weather, it diminishes me. But there’s nothing immature and unsophisticated about saying that it’s better to have sunshine at 9pm than darkness at 5pm. It just is!