Jacqueline Paumier- posted this line in a post over the weekend and it stopped me in my tracks,

“This sweet spot between summer and fall deserves to be its own season. “

It sent me down a rabbit hole, what would I call this season in-between summer and fall….We’ve always been taught the year is a four-part symphony: winter, spring, summer, fall. But what if there’s been a missing movement all along? 

A season that quietly exists between the blaze of summer and the golden hush of fall. I call it Luminara.

Luminara is the season of glowing in-betweens. The days still hold the heat of summer, but the air hums differently, lighter, wiser, carrying whispers of harvest. It’s when the cicadas quiet their songs, and the trees lean toward change but refuse to let go. In this season, the sun doesn’t scorch, it gilds. The nights don’t rush in—they cradle.

Luminara is for transitions that feel like revelations. It’s the season where we honor our work in the heat, then prepare to gather the fruit of that labor. It’s for long dinners outdoors where the sky turns violet, for barefoot walks in grass still warm, and for journaling in the kind of light that makes your pen feel like it’s writing gold.

It’s not just a season of weather, it’s a season of spirit. Luminara invites us to linger, to notice, to glow in our genius before the year begins its descent. It is the soft bridge between peak performance and reflective rest, between ambition’s fire and wisdom’s embrace.

What if we lived our lives like there was always a Luminara? A space where we don’t rush to the next thing, but instead let the brilliance of what we’ve done warm us just a little longer.

Because maybe the earth has always known: four seasons are not enough to capture the fullness of becoming. What would you call your season?