Autumn arrives in a hush of gold and smoke, each leaf a fleeting ember, each breeze a sigh of departure. It is the tender ache of beauty passing - the season that teaches us how to let go. The light turns low and amber, softening every edge. We gather what remains: the scent of earth after rain, the quiet weight of memory, the sweetness of things we know cannot stay. Autumn is not a loss, but transformation. A slow surrender to change. A reverence for impermanence. Its colors remind us that ending and becoming are the same gesture, and that within every fading, something eternal hums beneath.