The Things I Miss About Fall in the U.S.

Autumn in Transylvania is breathtaking — golden forests draped across the Carpathians, mist curling through medieval towers, markets spilling over with apples, chestnuts, and mushrooms. It is the kind of beauty that feels ancient, rooted, and solemn. And yet, as the air cools and the leaves begin to fall, I find myself aching for another kind of autumn — the one lingering on the streets of New Castle, Pennsylvania, US.

I miss the small rituals of my American fall. The way grocery stores would suddenly burst with pumpkin spice everything: coffee creamers, candles, muffins, and cereals that probably had no business being pumpkin flavored. It was ridiculous, but it was delightful. Here, the markets are filled with real abundance — apples, walnuts, wild plums — but there’s no pumpkin spice latte waiting on every corner, and I miss it. What I wouldn't do for a jar of pumpkin pie spice to dress up my own morning coffee.

I miss the coziness of my old Sears Verona home in autumn. The crockpot simmering with stew while candles flickered on the table. The TV humming with an ambient fireplace or fall forest ASMR. A throw blanket waiting in the sunroom where I could watch the leaves fall outside my window while I studied. There was a rhythm to those evenings that felt like exhaling, a domestic magic that wrapped me in comfort.

I miss the excitement of Halloween. In the U.S., the season would erupt with jack-o’-lanterns on every porch, yards turned into haunted graveyards, children dressed as superheroes and witches parading down sidewalks. Here in Transylvania, in the very place the world associates with vampires, Halloween is quieter. The shadows are real, the legends deeper, but the costumes and candy aisles are absent.

I miss the trees of my old neighborhood, maples and oaks ablaze in crimson and gold. Transylvania’s forests are stunning, vast and wild, but there’s something about the way my old street turned into a tunnel of fire-colored leaves - it will always be in my memory. I even miss the blisters on my hands from raking neverending piles of leaves from my old oak and the smell of smoke from my firepit.

And I miss community traditions: neighbors gathering for football games, farmers’ markets transformed into pumpkin patches, the ritual of Witches' Night Out in all of the local townships. Fall in the U.S. was not just about the weather — it was about a shared language of celebration, one that told us: the year is winding down, and we share in its enchantment together.

Here in Transylvania, I am surrounded by breathtaking beauty and old-world traditions. But the heart longs for what it knows. I carry both now — the solemn mist of these mountains and the bright, spiced sweetness of American autumns past. My heart loves the new but I will not lie... I am excited for the day I can once again create an Autumn ambience in my hearth and home.