Leading in the Quiet Season
October brings a deepening. The light tilts. The trees turn. The mornings are edged with mist and breath. This is the quiet season, a time not of retreat, but of re-rooting. Of tending what lies beneath.
In the natural world, October is a month of release and return. Trees draw their energy down into their roots, conserving, strengthening, and preparing. The surface may appear still, but underground, a quiet resilience is building.
As leaders, we are not separate from these seasonal shifts. We, too, have times when we turn inward. Of letting go of outward striving in favour of inner alignment. This isn’t always easy in a culture that prizes productivity and pace. But the healing power of nature reminds us: wintering is not a sign of weakness. It is wise.
Leadership in this season invites a different kind of strength – one that is grounded, present, and receptive. It asks us to slow our pace. To notice what needs tending, not fixing. To trust that growth is continuing.
This month I have also been walking, looking, capturing – photographing what catches in that liminal space between light and shade, between morning mist and turning leaves. I am honoured that one of my photographs from walks on the South Downs Way – Mist on the South Downs Way – was in The Land We Live Within, Sussex Contemporary ArtWave exhibition in September.
For me, photography is another way of re-rooting: choosing to see details, light, change; letting space open in the frame; allowing things to fall away so that what remains shows its own quiet strength. It is both a creative practice and a way of being present.
I see the same quality in my work with leaders at this time of year. Walk-and-talk conversations take on a different rhythm. There is more space. More depth. Leaders arrive not to make bold declarations, but to ask gentle questions: What is shifting? What is ending? What do I need to reclaim?
October is the threshold into wintering – this necessary part of the cycle of nature and of life. The turning season invites us to prepare, to gather in, to draw close to what sustains us. It is not about withdrawal, but about deepening roots, about trust in the unseen growth that winter will hold.
This is the invitation of October: to lead with presence, not performance. To listen to the quiet and lead from there.
What might it mean for you to honour the season you’re in?
Where are you being called to slow down, to soften, to realign?
Let the falling leaves remind you: you can release what is no longer needed.
Let the low sun guide you inward.
Let the stillness strengthen you.
With quiet courage,
Anni
