In a long-ago Peanuts comic strip Charlie Brown asked Lucy, “Do falling leaves make you sad?”

I get where Charlie Brown was coming from; I used to feel that same sense of melancholy in autumn.

Growing up in Northern Illinois surrounded predominately by huge oak trees, autumn was fairly subdued. The most you’ll get in the way of color from common oaks is bronze, while red oaks yield a heavy reddish-brown. As leaves fell to the ground, it created a dark, muted, monochromatic carpet underfoot: not what you’d call a masterclass in fiery color.

Once the branches were bare and the yard had been raked, all I could see was a stark, dreary landscape with winter waiting on the doorstep. Even as a kid, I carried a sharp awareness of time passing, making every ending feel less like a shift in seasons and more like something irreplaceable being lost.

Somewhere along the way, though, the unexpected happened: autumn turned into a high point on my calendar.

What changed?

I moved to New Hampshire.

I don’t think it’s possible to live in New England and remain immune to the tour de force otherwise known as foliage season. There, the trees do not simply fade – they burst into brilliant shades of amber, gold, scarlet, and dozens of hues in between, turning the landscape into a vast, breathtaking work of art: nature's magnum opus.

It's a show; a pageant; a buoyant, boisterous celebration. Experiencing it, your spirits cannot help but soar.

Being immersed in that spectacle – to my eyes, the greatest show on earth – fundamentally shifted my perspective about autumn. How could I perceive this grand finale of the growing season with a sense of despondency when nature completes that chapter with such flair?

The transformation went deeper than just my mood. The Granite State forever changed my relationship with the camera, too.

New Hampshire's geography is richly varied but the state is wonderfully compact. You can watch the sun come up along the seacoast and then be in the heart of the mountains within just a few hours. From a rugged ocean shoreline to marshland to glacial lakes, from major rivers to dense forests to alpine peaks, a nature photographer would be hard pressed to find a better place to work. My days of dabbling as a casual hobbyist came to an abrupt end; the landscape, my camera and I became inseparable.

What began as an infatuation with foliage season primarily in the White Mountains quickly extended into the entire year and took my camera and me from one end of the state to the other. Photography encouraged me to appreciate and embrace each season’s unique beauty, finding poetry even in the quiet emptiness of “stick season.”

I’m still acutely aware of the passage of time, but I’ve learned to accept - and even appreciate - the grace and beauty in such transitions.

Falling leaves don’t have to make you sad. After all, bidding farewell to them sets the table for spring's lush rebirth.

If you've never experienced autumn in New England, consider putting it on your bucket list. It's a trip you won't regret, and you'll never forget what you see. While the entire region has lovely color, my personal favorite place to see the show is in New Hampshire's White Mountains.

Of course it's impossible to "time" the turning of the leaves, but generally speaking. targeting the last few days of September into the first week of October is a pretty reliable window if you're trying to catch near-peak or peak color in the north country.

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Impermanence