Autumn is part of a natural cycle.
I am usually so tired of hot weather by the end of summer that I am truly thankful for autumn when it finally arrives. Some people don't agree. They love the long sun-filled days of summer, and they are sad when the days grow cooler and shorter and the trees lose their leaves.
Feelings of sadness as autumn progresses can be caused by our bodies. As the hours of natural light decrease, we produce more melatonin, a hormone that can produce feelings of depression and generally slow a body down. If you think you suffer from SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), talk to your doctor, and try to spend more time in the sunshine or full spectrum light.
On the other hand, some who claim to be sad about autumn haven't given much thought to the life cycles and rhythms God has built into our wonderful world. The following wisdom about the change of seasons is still as true today as when it was written, nearly 150 years ago:
Some persons occasionally complain that this period of the year, this brilliant change in the foliage, causes melancholy feelings, arousing sad and sorrowful ideas, like the flush on the hectic cheek.
But surely its more natural meaning is of a very different import. Here is no sudden blight of youth and beauty; no sweet hopes of life are blasted, no generous aim at usefulness and advancing virtue cut short : the year is drawing to its natural term, the seasons have run their usual course, all their blessings have been enjoyed, all our precious things are cared for; there is nothing of untimeliness, nothing of disappointment in these shorter days and lessening heats of autumn.
As well may we mourn over the gorgeous coloring of the clouds, which collect to pay homage to the setting sun, because they proclaim the close of day; as well may we lament the brilliancy of the evening star, and the silvery brightness of the crescent moon, just ascending into the heavens, because they declare the Approach of Night and her shadowy train.
Source: A First Class Reader: Consisting of Extracts, in Prose and Verse, edited by G.S. Hillard. Published in 1861 in Boston by Swan, Brewer, and Tileston. This passage is from the chapter, Autumn, written by "Miss Cooper, a daughter of the celebrated novelist."