There’s a moment in September when you realise summer has quietly slipped away.
It’s rarely dramatic. There’s no great fanfare. You might notice it while making the first cup of tea in the morning, when the kitchen seems a little darker than it did last week. Or perhaps on an evening walk, when you suddenly need a cardigan and the sun has disappeared before you were quite ready for it.
The hedgerows are changing too. Blackberries are ripening, rosehips are turning red and, beneath the trees, the first leaves are beginning to gather.
And then comes the autumn equinox.
This year, the autumn equinox in the UK falls on Wednesday 23 September 2026, at 1.06am BST. It marks the beginning of astronomical autumn and one of just two points in the year when the Earth’s northern and southern hemispheres are illuminated almost equally by the Sun.
But somehow, the autumn equinox feels like more than an astronomical event.
Perhaps because, at this time of life, many of us understand seasons rather better than we once did.
What is the autumn equinox?
The word equinox comes from the Latin aequus, meaning equal, and nox, meaning night.
Hence the lovely idea that, at the equinox, day and night stand briefly in balance.
The science is slightly more complicated than that.
The Earth travels around the Sun tilted on its axis by about 23.5 degrees. For much of the year, one hemisphere is tilted more towards the Sun than the other, giving us our changing seasons.
Twice a year — once in March and again in September — neither hemisphere is tilted towards the Sun. At these points, the Sun sits directly above the equator and both hemispheres receive roughly equal amounts of daylight.
These are the spring and autumn equinoxes.
Here in the Northern Hemisphere, September’s equinox signals the beginning of astronomical autumn. From here, our days continue to shorten until we reach the winter solstice in December.
And no, you haven’t been imagining either the darker mornings or the increasingly early hunt for the lamp switch.
But are day and night really equal?
Not quite.
It is one of those delicious little facts worth keeping for the next time someone mentions the equinox over dinner.
Although equinox literally means equal night, our day and night aren’t precisely 12 hours each on the equinox itself.
Partly, that’s because sunrise and sunset are measured from the moment the upper edge of the Sun appears or disappears over the horizon, rather than its centre. Our atmosphere also bends, or refracts, sunlight, allowing us to see the Sun for a little longer.
The day when daylight and darkness are closest to equal is sometimes called the equilux, and in the UK it falls a few days after the autumn equinox.
Nature, it seems, doesn’t always pay much attention to our desire for neat dividing lines.
Autumn has always been a season of gathering
Long before we could explain the tilt of the Earth, people were watching the changing light.
The shortening days mattered.
They told our ancestors when crops needed gathering, when fruit should be stored and when preparations for winter needed to begin. Autumn became a season of harvest, abundance and preparation.
And that ancient rhythm isn’t quite as distant from our modern lives as we might imagine.
Apples hang heavily on trees. Acorns scatter woodland paths. Conkers appear beneath horse chestnuts, irresistible even when you are several decades beyond the age when you have any conceivable use for them.
Blackberries stain fingers purple.
Fungi push through damp woodland floors.
And somewhere deep within us comes that familiar September urge to gather things in.
Not necessarily sacks of grain these days.
More likely books, blankets, candles and the first decent jumper of the season.
Why autumn can feel different in midlife
There is something about autumn that becomes more appealing as we get older.
When we’re younger, we’re encouraged to love beginnings. New jobs. New houses. New relationships. New plans.
Spring, metaphorically speaking, gets all the good publicity.
But by midlife, we’ve lived through enough seasons to know that endings have their place too.
Trees don’t cling desperately to every leaf.
The garden doesn’t apologise because the roses have finished flowering.
Nature simply begins the next part of the cycle.
And there is something rather reassuring about that.
For women in midlife particularly, autumn can feel strangely familiar. We’re living through our own period of change. Children may be growing up. Parents are growing older. Careers shift. Bodies change. Priorities quietly rearrange themselves.
Things we once thought mattered enormously sometimes don’t.
Things we barely noticed at 30 suddenly feel precious.
Time. Friendship. Health. A quiet morning. A long walk. Being comfortable in our own skin.
The autumn equinox arrives at exactly this point in the year with a rather useful reminder:
Change isn’t an interruption to life. It is life.
The beauty of balance
I also rather like the idea of the equinox as a moment of balance.
Not because I think we need to achieve the mythical state known as “life balance”. I’m increasingly suspicious that such a thing exists.
Some weeks work takes over. Other weeks family does. Occasionally the laundry stages a coup.
But the equinox offers something gentler.
A pause.
Light and darkness sitting alongside one another.
Neither winning.
Neither permanent.
There’s wisdom in that.
By September, summer’s exuberance is beginning to soften. The evenings close in, but the countryside answers with some of its richest colour. Leaves turn gold and copper. Berries brighten the hedgerows. Low sunlight stretches long shadows across fields and gardens.
Autumn doesn’t arrive overnight.
It gathers around us.
Perhaps that’s why an autumn walk can feel so restorative. There is always something happening if we slow down enough to notice it.
A small autumn equinox ritual
You don’t need to build a stone circle, light a ceremonial bonfire or start addressing the moon.
Unless, of course, that’s your thing.
Marking the autumn equinox can be much simpler.
Go outside.
Walk somewhere familiar and look at it properly.
Notice what’s changed since August.
Pick a few blackberries if there are still some around. Collect beautiful fallen leaves. Bring a branch of rosehips home for the kitchen table. Make something with apples. Sit outside with a cup of tea while there’s still enough warmth to do it comfortably.
And perhaps ask yourself three questions:
What am I grateful for from the season that’s ending?
What am I ready to let go of?
What would I like more of in the months ahead?
Not resolutions.
Not another list of things to achieve.
Just noticing.
We spend so much of our lives racing towards the next thing that there is something quietly radical about acknowledging where we actually are.
Look for the first signs of autumn
Over the next few weeks, keep an eye out for the small changes happening around you.
The first properly chilly morning.
Spiderwebs jewelled with dew.
The smell of damp leaves.
Geese gathering overhead.
Acorns underfoot.
That particular golden afternoon light which seems to belong only to September and October.
And the sudden realisation, usually at about half past six in the evening, that you need to turn a light on.
None of these things lasts very long.
Which, of course, is partly why they’re beautiful.
Welcome to autumn
At 1.06am on 23 September 2026, we’ll cross an invisible line in our journey around the Sun.
Nothing dramatic will happen.
Most of us will be asleep.
The trees won’t suddenly turn orange and there won’t be a celestial announcement that it’s time to retrieve the boots from the back of the wardrobe.
But something will have shifted.
From here, the nights become longer than the days. Nature begins its slow journey towards winter.
And perhaps we’re invited to slow down a little too.
Autumn doesn’t ask us to stop.
It simply reminds us that there is a season for growing and a season for gathering; a season for doing and a season for taking stock.
Maybe, by the time we’ve reached midlife, we’re finally old enough to appreciate both.
So put the kettle on, pull on a jumper and step outside.
Autumn is here.
Further Reading: How to Age Review: Liz Earle’s Healthy Ageing Guide, Life Is Life: Finding Joy in the Beautiful Chaos of Everyday Living, How to Rebrand Yourself and Shape Your Next Chapter
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