I'm So Glad I Live in a World Where There are Octobers

A love letter to fall in Prague — and autumn everywhere.

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“Oh, Marilla,” Anne exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn’t it?”

—Anne Shirley in “Anne of Green Gables”

Are you surprised I began this newsletter with a quote from Anne of Green Gables, the classic Canadian children’s book from 1908?

You shouldn’t be.

I might be a grown man, but Anne Shirley — the book’s main character — is one of my literary heroines, and this is one of my favorite quotes from her.

October is also my favorite month of the year — not only because it’s the month I was born.

If I’d been born in July, I’d still love October.

Given that I’m from the U.S., for me, October is Halloween and grinning jack-’o-lanterns, and corn mazes, and hearty soups, and freshly picked apples, and apple ciders. And also harvest moons and harvest festivals, and piles of crunchy leaves, and the scent of wood smoke, and crisp autumn mornings when I can wear a thick jumper while still enjoying the sunshine on my face.

Even the word “October” is lovely to look at. I love the plump jolliness of the two “Os” and the “b,” which looks like a fat, little tummy. Even the “c” has a pleasing round shape.

It’s as if the word itself has feasted on blackberries, apples, and acorns and is now ready for a long, cold winter.

But I especially love October because I’m a photographer, and all that fall foliage is out there waiting to be photographed.

Over the past seven years of nomading around the world, Brent and I have lived in places with spectacular Octobers: Kesztheley, Hungary, for example, and Helena, Montana.

But for me, one October has ruled them all: Prague in the Czech Republic.

Ironically, Brent had been the one most keen to visit Prague. Oh, I wanted to go, but not as badly as he did.

Then we arrived in October 2021, and I was gobsmacked. I knew instantly I’d never get my heart back.

Sure, Prague is widely renowned as one of Europe’s most beautiful cities.

I loved the spires and the red-tiled roofs. I was besotted from my first glimpses of Prague Castle, St. Vitus Cathedral, Old Town Square, and so much more.

This was a city I couldn’t wait to explore.

I have an idea. Why don’t you join me on one of my morning walks? But this isn’t just any walk. Today, I want to find the perfect picture of Prague in October.

It’s a little after 6 AM as we leave the apartment. It’s chilly outside, in the 30s Fahrenheit, perfect for fog to form on the Vltava River, which is famous for its fog-shrouded mornings.

We’ll have to walk fast to reach the far side of the Charles Bridge before the sun rises and the mist burns off.

We made it in time. Now to watch the sun come up.

Here it comes.

It’s as gorgeous as I hoped. What do you think?

As the mist clears, I take picture after picture, trying to capture the city seeming to materialize out of nothingness like a little bit of magic.

Eventually, the mist is gone entirely, and Prague reveals itself clad in scarlet scarves and burnished amber cloaks.

Is this my perfect picture?

I marvel at how the golds, reds, and ambers go perfectly with the Bohemian sandstone used to build many of Prague’s bridges. The stone’s warm yellow color perfectly complements the brightly colored trees.

Let’s continue, shall we?

Walking along the Vltava, I feel perfectly happy — I hope you do too. How could we not on such a crisp fall morning with the trees in such perfect autumn colors?

I think a Czech saying about autumn captures what Prague feels like this morning: “Podzim je malíř, co hraje se zlatou a červenou.”

It means: Autumn is a painter who plays with gold and red.

I hope my perfect picture will live up to that saying.

A smaller bridge beckons. Let’s take a detour.

The mist is gone now, and a bright blue sky is overhead. A small canal filled with still water catches the trees’ reflections.

Farther on, a small stone bridge crosses another canal. A garland of magenta-colored leaves drips from the bridge, and I hear Anne Shirley’s voice saying, “Dear old world, you are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you.”

Flaming ropes of ivy are everywhere — tumbling from fences, draped on walls, and clinging to gates.

Prague’s parks are equally stunning.

Let’s head for one of the most beautiful — Grébovka Park.

This Italian Renaissance-style park was built in the late 19th century on land that had been vineyards for centuries. And some of the vineyards are still there.

Grébovka is only minutes from our apartment, so Brent and I walk here almost every day.

We love the sloping hills and the kids playing in the leaves — and especially — the October sun using its alchemy to turn the leaves to gold.

I hope you revel in it as much as we do.

Did you know the light in October truly is different from the rest of the year?

The sun hangs lower in the sky, the angle of the light creating softer, golden-tinged tones. Science tells us the wavelength of this light enhances reds, oranges, and yellows.

I dislike thinking of such a lovely part of nature in such prosaic terms. I’d rather sit and soak it in.

The park is filled with trees, and the green grass is already covered with a thick carpet of leaves.

I love the sound of the leaves crunching crisply under my feet and the dry, earthy smell that reaches my nose.

Lampposts dot the park, and every time I see one, I pretend that I’m in Narnia and Mr. Tumnus will emerge from the woods at any moment.

He never does, but that’s okay. Enchanted faun or not, I’m still surrounded by magic.

The sun is lower in the sky now; the shadows of the trees stretch out as if trying to keep the sun from leaving.

I feel that way, too: sad that the end of our day is drawing closer. And I still haven’t found my perfect picture.

Then I think of something else Anne Shirley said: “I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.”

She’s right, I know, but I confess, I’d still like to find that perfect picture.

The light is waning now and will soon be gone. There’s one more place I want to take you before we both go home.

It’s Olšany Cemetery, one of several remarkable graveyards in Prague. Maybe I’ll find my perfect picture here.

Olšany is the largest cemetery in Prague, almost four hundred years old. Trees watch over simple graves, art nouveau tombs, and silent crypts.

A carpet of leaves covers almost everything, yet nearly all the trees are still cloaked in autumn colors.

It’s like I’ve fallen into a fairy tale — perhaps a slightly scary one.

Walking up and down the tree-lined rows, autumn here feels even more poignant than past October walks.

Perhaps it’s that I’m in the “autumn” of my own life. I just had another birthday, and I know there are now fewer October ahead of me than behind.

This is when I realized the point of our walk wasn’t to find the “one” perfect picture — because, of course, no such thing exists.

Instead, the point is to enjoy this one October day in oh-so-lovely Prague — and for all of us to realize how lucky we are to live in a world of Octobers.

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Michael Jensen is a novelist and editor. For more about Michael, visit him at MichaelJensen.com.