The Autumnization of Barcelona
There is a point every year when I decide that summer has lasted long enough.
The weather does not necessarily agree.
This year, my autumn started before Barcelona’s did.
I was still in Poland when the seasonal shift began: a little crochet, a few autumn decorations, the familiar pleasure of making a room feel slightly warmer and slower even before there was any real need for it. By the time I returned to Barcelona, I had already moved mentally into another season.
Barcelona, meanwhile, was still Barcelona.
People were wearing sleeveless tops. The days were warm. The balcony plants were very much alive and showing no particular interest in becoming part of a northern European autumn fantasy.
So I decided to help.
I bought a pot of heather and a small terracotta pumpkin.
That was enough.
There is something very satisfying about autumnization — not autumn itself, but the gradual cultural construction of it. The season appears in small things before it arrives meteorologically. A different pair of shoes. Long trousers appearing on locals after the first cooler day. A candle. A mug. A half-finished crochet project. A pumpkin placed on a balcony where, objectively, no pumpkin was required.
Shops participate enthusiastically. By early September, homeware sections are already filling with rust, orange, brown and cream. Pumpkins appear everywhere. Heather suddenly seems seasonally inevitable. And then, almost offensively early, Christmas starts pushing its way onto the same shelves before autumn has even properly settled in.
Barcelona makes all of this slightly surreal.
The city does have fallen leaves, of course. But even they do not always mean what they seem to mean. After a hot, dry summer, brown leaves on the pavement can look perfectly autumnal while having much more to do with heat and water stress than with the arrival of cold weather.
Still, once they are there, the effect is irresistible.
A pavement covered in brown leaves looks like autumn.
A balcony with heather and a terracotta pumpkin looks like autumn.
People switch to long trousers because the temperature has dropped by a few degrees.
I continue wearing shorts.
Everyone is participating in the same season according to slightly different rules.
And perhaps that is what I like about it.
Autumn does not begin when the thermometer reaches a particular number. It begins when enough small things start pointing in the same direction.
You notice different colours in shops. You start reaching for warmer textures. You want coffee in a different cup. You begin a small project with yarn. You put something orange on a balcony. You see leaves on the pavement and decide not to ask too many questions about why they are there.
At some point, without any official announcement, the mood changes.
Summer stops being the default.
The city softens.
And even in Barcelona, autumn begins to feel possible.
