09/01/2026
An Essay on Chlorophyll and Coming Home
Autumn is coming. And so it is time. Time to collect summer’s harvest. Time to hang the herb bundles from the kitchen so that they might last all winter. Time to perform alchemy, turning tomatos and garlic into liquid gold (sauce… obviously). Time to pour a hot cup of tea and study it’s turbulent steam as it gathers and winds its way out the window to greet the cold and brisk morning. Time to weild the axe, turning trees and prayers into a winter’s worth of warmth. Time to burn the sage, to sweep out the stagnant energy, to let candlelight paint the walls, to marvel at Earth’s beauty. To eat the bread.
It’s the season of witch. It’s the season of returning to our true selves. The great Matriarch of Nature shows us so.
Have you noticed the leaves changing? Changing… It’s an interesting way that we describe the process trees go through this time of year. As if the leaves are becoming something new. Did you also spend your life, like me, believing that leaves take on a new color for fall? If so, I am so sorry friend. We have been living a lie.
Leaves are green in the summer because plants produce an abundance of chlorophyll in the sunnier months, spring and summer. Chlorophyll breaks down in the darker and colder months, revealing the beautiful colors we long to see every fall. The reds, yellows, and oranges are not a new color at all. They were underneath all along.
Learning this made me think about how there has always seemed to be something magical about fall. And it helped me to see that, while I am very green in the summer, I need this time of year to let me warmer colors shine through. In fact, my “green” self is not the self i am most proud of, connected to, or happy to be. She tends to lean into convenience for the sake of keeping up with a busy schedule with the kids, doing all the fun summer things before their friends disappear and go back to school. My autumn self, absent of chlorophyll, is a bit of a pioneer living in modern times. I have washboard and cookstove dreams. I fancy meatpies and dirty aprons. I long for early evenings, settled in by the fire. I am tired, but delighted to wash calloused hands and muddy boots. My autumn self is me. This is why the coming of autumn always feels like a homecoming.
Perhaps it is not a time for new beginnings, as F. Scott FItzgerald so famously wrote: “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” Perhaps it is more like the noise falling away in the autumn, allowing us to navigate back to our true selves.
The season of fall is a special time of year in the bakery. None of this “spooky season” business. It is a celebration of the harvest, the natural beauty, the magic of nightfall, the grit required for colder weather, the rich textures, the sounds, the smells, the coming together of people. It is almost ceremonial. The menus we craft, the recipes we share, the ways we show up for all of you–it’s all in the name of coming home.
With the turn of the season, we are delighted to share with you an evolving collection of breads and pastries intended to break down the figurative chlorophyll and reintroduce you to your inner beautiful self. We hope we inspire memories, connect hearts, create magic, and help to provide slower moments so you may enjoy this truly magnificent season.
Cheers… to the gold and rust colored you. To the you who has always been there behind the veil. And welcome to Autumn at Morning Glory Bread.
Warmly,
Amanda
