The Descent of Persephone and the Season’s Shift

You can feel it in the air. The light softens. The evenings creep in earlier. Even if you live far from fields or forests, there’s a subtle change — Fall has begun to press its weight into the days. Even in Las Vegas, Nevada, where the season is more like summer lite, the shift still shows itself.

In mythology, Persephone marks this shift. She begins her descent to the underworld, leaving behind her mother, Demeter and the fertile abundance of summer. Her absence explains the darkening of the world, the thinning harvest, the cold edge in the air. But absence is not the end — it’s the hinge of the story.

For me, Fall carries the same kind of hinge. It isn’t only decline; it’s the turn inward. A drawing down. A season where inspiration doesn’t blaze like summer light, but deepens, coils, and sharpens in quieter ways.

I’ve always felt that my work shifts with the seasons. In summer, it’s bolder, chasing shine and saturation. But in the Fall, it turns more subtle. Umber and sienna creep into the mixes. The textures soften and grow more intricate, less blunt. What was once simple becomes layered, slower, more thoughtful. Maybe that’s Persephone whispering through the brush — reminding me that descent is not absence but another kind of richness.

Takeaway: Inspiration doesn’t only rise with the sun. Sometimes it follows Persephone underground, surfacing again in the season of longer shadows.