It feels like autumn came almost overnight. After a September that stubbornly behaved like July .... sunny skies, hot afternoons, and everyone still in short sleeves, we suddenly woke up one morning to find the air colder, the clouds heavier and rain drumming on the rooftops as if it had patiently been waiting all month for its turn. In Serbia, this change always feels a little dramatic, as if the seasons like to play tricks on us. One day you’re sweating while picking late tomatoes from your garden and the next you’re hunting for your warm socks and sweater.
But that’s autumn here, and honestly, it is magical! 🍁🍂👑
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If there’s one smell that defines autumn in Serbia, it’s roasted peppers. Step into any village, or even a city neighborhood with houses, and you’ll find clouds of fragrant smoke curling up from backyards where families are roasting red peppers for ajvar. First, we wash whole peppers twice. Then we take off all the stems, and if a pepper isn’t good, we cut out or throw away the bad part. Then, the fire and "Smederevac" are doing their job. The peeling, chopping, and mixing that follow can take hours, but the reward tomorow, after frying are jars full of rich, red ajvar stacked like treasure in the pantry, waiting to brighten the grayest winter day.
Or it can be tasted already in the following days, because who would wait another month or two when we can start eating it right away. Mom doesn’t use any conservans, so ajvar is completely safe and healthy to enjoy immediately, still hot and just taken off the Smederevac.
And of course, peppers don’t come alone. Alongside them, we prepare turšija, those colorful jars filled with sour cauliflower, carrots, cucumbers, green tomatoes, onions, garlic, and of course peppers again. Each family swears their version is the best.
Here you can see how I matched my Converse with the peppers while we were cleaning and washing them. ↑
Another sure sign of autumn are green walnuts. You can hear them falling from trees in the garden or in the orchards, hitting the ground with a soft thud. Cracking them open is easy, but if you’re not careful, the green husks will stain your hands a deep brown green that doesn’t wash off for days.
Every year I tell myself I’ll wear gloves, and every year I forget. So I walk around proudly with greenish fingers, as if it’s a badge of honor. “Look,” they say, “I survived another walnut season.” 😁 Fresh walnuts are a pure joy -> soft, milky, and full of flavor. Their skin taste bitter, so I always peel them completely until I get the perfectly white walnut core, and then I enjoy the wonderful taste. Yummy! Perfect!
Autumn is the time when copper stills wake up. Every yard seems to smell of fermenting grapes, plums, apples and families gather to distill the golden liquid - rakija.
When the rain begins, sometimes for days in a row, we know it’s time to get serious about winter. Coal is delivered in black mountains that need to be shoveled into storage. Wood is chopped and stacked, a satisfying sound of logs cracking under the axe echoing through the yards. There’s a comfort in seeing those neat piles, knowing that when snow falls, you’ll be ready. Of course, not everything is work. Rain also brings out life in the rivers. My grandfather proved this just the other day, coming home with a bucket of fish: some chub (klen), a barbel (mrena), and plenty of small bleak (beovica). It seems like fish love autumn weather more than people do. :D It’s true. As the air cools and rivers swell, the fish seem more active, and fishing becomes a kind of reward for enduring the damp weather. We fry some of the catch right away, golden and crispy.
The rain doesn’t stop. For 24 hours straight, it poured and our terrace looked more like a small pond than a floor. Normally, this would feel depressing, but somehow autumn rain in Serbia has a special poetry. It slows everything down. People sit indoors, sipping coffee, listening to the drops. Farmers finally take a break. Even the animals seem calmer. There’s a kind of peace in watching water collect in puddles, knowing the earth is drinking deeply before the frost arrives.
Inside the house, autumn makes itself known in other ways. Our pets, Maza the lady and our Kitty cat, are both officially house residents now. 😁 The chill drove them indoors, and they decided that one small cushion is perfectly fine for two. Seeing them curled up together, paws and tails intertwined is like watching the perfect friendship in action. And people saying man and woman cannot be just friends, phah, look at those two. <3
The cushion is not big enough even for one of them, but somehow they manage. Sometimes the cat’s paw is thrown dramatically across Maza’s back, as if claiming ownership. Other times Maza tucks her nose under the cat’s belly, using him as a pillow. They’ve known and love each other since they were small. It’s funny how animals teach us about comfort. While we fuss about bigger blankets or better chairs, they prove that all you really need is company.
If you’ve never experienced autumn here, it’s hard to explain its charm. It’s not just the colors of the leaves, although they are beautiful golden, red, and brown, lighting up hillsides and village roads. It’s not only the cooler air that makes you breathe deeper or the misty mornings that hide the fields. It’s the rhythm of wonderful nature that changes. Even though it sneaks up on us every year, making us shiver suddenly and wonder where we put our jackets, it’s always welcome. And as I am writing this, rain is still loudly tapping on the windows. 🌧️
