The Year I Missed Pumpkin Spice Everything (Issue 001)

It’s officially Wool Sock Season.

And if you’re anything like I was, you might be feeling… a little off. Let’s talk about why.

The Year I Missed Pumpkin Spice Everything

It was my second autumn in Germany when it hit me hardest.

I was standing in a tiny grocery store in Wiesbaden, staring at a pile of knobby orange vegetables labeled Kürbis. And suddenly I felt my throat tighten. Pumpkin. Yes. But not my pumpkin.

Outside, the air had that crisp snap of changing leaves. But it wasn’t my fall.

No apple cider.
No Halloween aisles bursting with candy.
No Sunday morning Target runs with oversized cups of coffee.
No Thanksgiving countdown in the background of daily life.

Instead, I was surrounded by shelves that seemed to skip straight from summer beer to Christmas chocolates. Autumn, the season that always wrapped me in rhythm and ritual, felt strangely absent.

That’s when homesickness snuck up on me—not loud or dramatic, but like a slow ache in the background. It wasn’t just about missing pumpkin spice (though, let’s be honest, I really did). It was about missing the familiar cues that told me who I was and where I belonged.

Back in the States, October always felt like electricity.

• Farmers’ markets with hayrides and baskets of apples.

• High school football games under the lights.

• Cinnamon donuts sticky with sugar.

• Thanksgiving menus mapped out weeks in advance.

Those rhythms carried me, year after year.

But here in Germany? Autumn seemed to slip past without fanfare. Shorter days, cooler nights, yes—but where was the season? Where were the rituals that marked the turning of time?

That’s where this newsletter begins...

- I’ll return to the story in just a sec, since there IS more! -

...Not with perfection. Not with a tidy formula. But with a simple truth: this has been a long time coming.

I’ve lived in Germany for over 21 years. And for just about that long, I’ve been collecting stories, cultural quirks, and lessons I wish someone had told me sooner. I’ve navigated everything from school forms and Sparkasse nightmares to parenting, dating, grieving, and building a business in a language I didn’t grow up with.

I’ve wanted to share these stories—really share them—for a long time. But life, like Germany, has a way of asking for all your energy up front.

So this? This newsletter? The companion podcast? It’s a milestone. And honestly, a gift I’m finally giving to myself—and to you.

Because if you’re here, you probably don’t need more apps or grammar charts. You need something real. And that’s exactly what Life, just in German is here to be.

But first, let me take you back to that day in Wiesbaden…

I remember walking home with a bag of groceries that day—bread, cheese, and a single pumpkin I wasn’t quite sure how to cook—and feeling both heavy and a little ridiculous. How could I miss something as silly as a Starbucks drink or a candy aisle?

But of course, it wasn’t silly. It was about rhythm. About belonging.

And for a while, Germany’s autumn felt like it belonged to everyone else but me.

It took years, honestly, before I started to notice the quieter cues around me:

• The smell of wood smoke curling out of chimneys at dusk.

• Children with handmade lanterns, singing in small parades for St. Martin’s.

• The surprising comfort of Zwiebelkuchen (onion tart) paired with Federweißer (fizzy new wine) at local stands.

• The way neighbors actually slowed down once the daylight shrank—closing shutters earlier, settling into slippered evenings, embracing what Germans call Gemütlichkeit.

It wasn’t the autumn I knew. But it was an autumn I could learn to love.

And somewhere along the way, I did.

You’re Not Doing It Wrong—Germany’s Just Different

If you’ve been feeling a little off this autumn, you’re not alone. Many expats describe it as hitting a kind of wall around this time of year. The days shorten quickly, familiar holidays are nowhere on the calendar, and even the pumpkin doesn’t feel quite right.

But here’s the truth: you’re not broken, and you’re not failing at expat life. Germany just runs on a different seasonal rhythm.

Here’s what you might be missing right now:

• Long golden evenings that stretch past dinner.

• Halloween with neighborhood trick-or-treaters.

• Thanksgiving gatherings and all the chaos of family reunions.

• Familiar seasonal cues—apple orchards, football games, cinnamon-scented everything.

And here’s what’s waiting for you instead, in the coming weeks:

• Oktoberfest season (late Sept–early Oct): whether you’re in Munich or not, beer tents, local wine fests, and autumn fairs pop up everywhere. In Rhein-Main, Weinfeste often carry the same spirit—dirndls, brass bands, and plenty of toasts.

• Oct 3 – Tag der Deutschen Einheit (German Unity Day): a nationwide public holiday, shops closed. Some towns mark it with concerts or exhibits.

• Federweißer & Zwiebelkuchen season (right now): that fizzy new wine + onion tart combo is Germany’s most “pumpkin spice” moment of the year.

• Oct 26 – Time change: the clocks fall back, and the early darkness really begins.

• Nov 1 – All Saints’ Day (Allerheiligen): a reflective holiday in Rheinland-Pfalz (Mainz will be quiet and closed), though not in Hesse (Wiesbaden/Frankfurt carry on as usual).

• Nov 11 – St. Martin’s Day: lantern parades with children singing—soft, glowing, and unexpectedly moving.

• Nov 30 – First Advent: the start of Adventzeit, when Christmas markets open and Germany turns into a snow globe of light and ritual.

Germany doesn’t do fall the way we might expect. It does it differently—quieter, moodier, more ritual than spectacle.

And that’s why it feels strange at first. Because what you’re really missing isn’t just pumpkins and pie—it’s the sense of rhythm you grew up with. The scaffolding that told your body, “This is October, this is November, this is home.”

But here’s the good news: new rhythms can become yours. Slowly, sometimes awkwardly, but also deeply. Once you notice them, lean into them, and allow them to matter, Germany starts to feel less foreign and more like home.

So if you’ve got the Herbstblues right now, remember: it’s not a flaw. It’s a bridge. And every step across it is part of belonging.

☕ The Café Table

🎧 Podcast Episode Highlight
This week marks the very first episode of the Life, just in German podcast: “Herbstblues & Homesick Pumpkins.” I tell the story of my second autumn in Germany, why I once cried in a grocery store over “Kürbis,” and how to find your footing when you’re missing the little things that made fall feel like fall back home. Listen here → [Podcast link]

📍 Cultural / Seasonal Tip
October in Germany isn’t just about falling leaves—it’s also Oktoberfest season. Even if you’re nowhere near Munich, you’ll find beer tents, autumn fairs, and smaller fests in nearly every region. In Rhein-Main, local Weinfeste often carry the same spirit—dirndls, brass bands, and plenty of toasts.

📸 Instagram / Blog Spotlight
Want to see what a real German autumn looks like? Not glossy postcards, but muddy boots, foggy vineyards, and my current favorite corner for tea and regrouping. I’ve been posting daily glimpses of “Life, just in German” on Instagram. Come peek behind the scenes → [Instagram link]

🍴 What’s Cooking: Zwiebelkuchen + Federweißer
My first year here, I wrinkled my nose at onion tart with fizzy half-fermented wine. Now? I wait for it all year. It’s Germany’s answer to pumpkin spice season—seasonal, cozy, and oddly addictive. Recipe here → [Recipe link]

📚 Book / Media Share
Confession: I’m a fan of thrillers—psychological thrillers, ghost stories, anything that makes you glance over your shoulder while still being able to sleep at night. Right now, I’m reading Sarah Pinborough’s We Live Here Now—a ghost story with just the right edge.

But I know autumn can also be tender, so if what you need is a softer landing, I’ll point you to Matt Haig’s The Comfort Book. It’s like a warm blanket in words—a reminder that small rituals matter.

And if you’re more into “weight-lifting for the brain” (history, culture, bigger themes), don’t worry—I’ll be sharing those in later issues too.

🧳 Day-Trip Destination Idea
Head to Rüdesheim am Rhein this month. The vineyards are glowing gold, the cable car ride over the Rhine is stunning in the fall light, and you can sip Federweißer with a view. Less than an hour from Wiesbaden or Frankfurt, it feels like stepping into another world. [Tourism link]

🗓️ What’s Happening Around Wiesbaden/Frankfurt/Rhein-Main

• Wiesbaden: Federweißer Festival downtown (ongoing through October).

• Frankfurt: Look for Oktoberfest-style beer tents at the Hauptwache and in Sachsenhausen.

• Mainz: St. Martin’s lantern workshops start mid-October—perfect if you want to join in the November 11th parades.
  [Event link]

🛠️ Tools & Tricks
Check out the Too Good To Go app. It lets you buy leftover bakery goods, groceries, and restaurant meals for a fraction of the price. Cheap, sustainable, and a great way to discover local favorites. [App link]

💬 Playtime: Word, Phrase, Puzzle, or Game of the Week
This week’s word: Herbstblues (literally, “autumn blues”). Try saying: “Ich habe Herbstblues.” Germans will nod knowingly—it’s a shared experience.

🚀 What’s in the Pipeline from NLG
Alongside this premiere newsletter and podcast, I’m putting finishing touches on the A1.1 Foundations course. It’s built to give you practical, real-world German for daily life—without drowning you in grammar drills. More soon.

✅ Your To-Do List for This Week (3 Wins)

1. Shop early: Friday, October 3rd is a holiday—stock up before shops close.

2. Taste autumn: Try Zwiebelkuchen + Federweißer at a local stand.

3. Join in: Learn the word Herbstblues and drop it into conversation—you might be surprised at the knowing smiles you get.

This first edition feels like a milestone—for me, and I hope for you too.

I’ve carried these stories and lessons around for years, waiting for the “right” moment to start sharing them. And I’ve realized: there’s no perfect moment. There’s just today, and the chance to say: you’re not alone in this.

So thank you for being here at the very beginning.

Now I’d love to hear from you:
👉 What do you miss most about autumn back home?
👉 And what’s one thing in Germany that’s surprised you—in a good way?

Hit reply and tell me your version. I read every message.

Next week, we’ll talk about another rhythm that takes some getting used to: Sundays in Germany, when everything closes and the whole country slows down. Spoiler: I’ve had more than one empty-fridge Sunday, and I bet you have too.

With wool socks and warmer tea,
Christine