Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.

Albert Camus, philosopher of light and shadow, once wrote: “Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.” In this saying, he lifts the veil from what many see as decline and shows instead a season of radiant renewal. For while spring is the time of birth and blossoming, autumn is the time of transformation and harvest. The leaves, though dying, blaze with color more brilliant than any bloom. Thus Camus teaches that even in endings there is beauty, and that what seems loss may in truth be a final flowering.

The ancients often pondered the turning of the seasons as mirrors of the human soul. To the Greeks, spring was the time of Persephone’s return, a symbol of rebirth. Autumn, however, was the time of her descent, when the earth prepared for sleep. Yet Camus, in his luminous wisdom, refuses to see autumn only as decline. Instead, he sees it as a second spring — not the rising of new life, but the crowning glory of life fulfilled. The tree that has endured summer’s heat clothes itself in robes of gold and crimson, like a monarch readying for rest.

We may think here of Japan, where the viewing of autumn leaves, called momijigari, has long been celebrated as deeply as the viewing of spring’s cherry blossoms. The Japanese understood what Camus voiced centuries later: that the fiery splendor of leaves in their final days is no less beautiful, and perhaps more poignant, than the tender blossoms of spring. One is beauty of beginning, the other is beauty of completion. Both stir the heart, but in different ways — one with promise, the other with fulfillment.

History gives us another image in the life of Michelangelo. In his youth, he sculpted the radiant David, symbol of spring, full of strength and promise. Yet in his later years, in the autumn of his life, he carved the haunting Pietà Rondanini, rough and unfinished, yet filled with tenderness beyond words. His youthful works were flowers of energy, but his later works were the leaves of autumn — fragile, worn, yet radiant with wisdom. In them we see that the end of life can shine as brightly as its beginning.

The meaning of Camus’s words, then, is not only about the seasons of the earth but the seasons of the soul. When youth passes, when the green freshness fades, do not see only decline. See instead the glory of autumn, when every leaf becomes a flower. In the later stages of life, in the closing of chapters, in the letting go of what was, there is a different beauty — one born of endurance, of experience, of acceptance. This is the beauty that no spring can know.

The lesson for us is clear: do not fear endings, for they too carry their own blossoms. When a stage of life draws to its close — when children leave home, when careers conclude, when age advances — embrace it not with sorrow but with reverence. The fire of autumn burns in its leaves, and so too can the fire of wisdom burn in the later passages of life. To see each moment as flowering, even when it seems like decline, is to live with gratitude and courage.

Practically, this means cultivating eyes that see beauty in every season. In youth, rejoice in beginnings. In maturity, rejoice in harvest. In age, rejoice in transformation. When life seems to be taking away, look again: it may be giving you color more brilliant than any before. Like Camus, learn to call autumn a second spring, and you will find beauty where others see only loss.

Thus, Albert Camus’s words endure: “Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.” Carry this wisdom with you. For the world is always blossoming, even in its fading; and every ending, if seen with the right heart, is but another beginning clothed in different colors.