When most people think of fall, they picture leaves crunching underfoot, pumpkins glowing on porches, and Thanksgiving inching closer.

Here in Portland, the leaves are still clinging to their branches, just barely, but the pumpkins? Oh, they’re already taking over every doorstep and grocery store entryway.

I always know when fall’s really arrived, though. And it’s not the calendar date, or even the weather, we’ve had 80-degree days this week, and half the city’s still in shorts.

But there’s that subtle chill at night now. The kind that makes you reach for a sweater you forgot you missed. And the light, it’s shifting. It’s not just getting darker earlier. It’s different.

Softer. Slower. That warm, honeyed glow that hits the east side just before dusk. The kind of light that makes everything look like a memory in the making.

The streets are lined with maples and sweet gums, their leaves just beginning to turn, not all at once, but gradually, like a song fading in. Every fall, I think I remember how it looks. And every year, I’m wrong.

Because no two people, and no two falls, ever look exactly the same.

One City, Infinite Autumns

Stand at any crosswalk in Laurelhurst or under the canopy in the Park Blocks. Look up. The world is burning green and gold. But if you asked the person next to you what color they see, you might be surprised.

And while a lot of green is still there, one might say red, another rust, someone else orange with a whisper of pink. All of them would be right, for them.

Our eyes are deeply personal instruments. They don’t just take in light; they interpret it. Bend it. Translate it into something that makes sense to the mind. And that translation? It’s never the same twice.

How We Actually “See” Color

Inside your eyes are millions of tiny cells called cones, each one tuned to sense a specific range of light: red, green, or blue. Those signals combine, and your brain does the rest, blending them into every shade you’ve ever loved.

But here’s the wonder: no two sets of eyes have identical cones.
Some people perceive more green, others more red. Even the way your lens filters light can shift your entire color experience. Heck, my dad is color blind, and that's an extreme example, but his experience is always vastly different than mine.

Age changes how things appear to your eyes, too. The clear lens of the eye yellows slightly over time, muting blues and letting warm tones dominate. Suddenly, sunsets feel richer. Coffee looks darker. The world tilts a little toward amber. I suppose this is one of the upsides to aging (although I'd happily swap this to shave a couple decades off ;).

The Portland Filter

In most cities, sunlight floods.
Here, it diffuses.

That’s part of what makes Portland’s fall colors so hypnotic. The light is filtered through cloud and mist, bouncing softly off wet pavement and windows. Every surface reflects something new.

There are days when the reds look electric, alive. Then a bit of fog rolls in, and the same tree turns dusty rose. It’s all in the atmosphere, and in your own perception.

Even without any lenses between you and the world, your eyes are constantly adapting. Pupils tighten, cones recalibrate, and your brain smooths out the edges of color to make sense of the changing light.

It’s not just seeing. It’s experiencing.

The Meaning Behind the Science

This all sounds technical, but really it’s something tender.
Color isn’t just physics, it’s emotion.

Think about it: every memory you have is painted in color.
The bright red mug you use on rainy mornings. The faded green of Buck Lake up on Mt. Hood. The deep orange glow from streetlamps after a storm.

When your vision is sharp, your world feels more alive. When it isn’t, colors fade quietly, not all at once, but slowly, like a song slipping out of tune.

And most people don’t even notice until the day they do.

A Small Invitation

So this fall, pause.
Stand under the trees near Broadway. Watch the wind move through the leaves, how the light shifts, how shadows stretch and disappear.

Notice what colors stand out. Which ones speak to you.

Then, think about your eyes, these incredible, fragile tools that let you witness all of it.

Even if you don’t wear glasses, care for them. Rest them. Protect them from the glare of screens and the fatigue of fluorescent light. Because your eyes aren’t just lenses. They’re storytellers.

And Portland, especially in October, has such a good story to tell.

Thank you for taking the time to read this article! To delve deeper, we invite you to browse our extensive collection of frames. Additionally, you're welcome to explore our comprehensive list of services, and should you require an eye exam, feel free to schedule an appointment with us.