Why Can’t We Let Go of Summer? A Chinese Reflection
Just days after the Start of Autumn (立秋) solar term marked the traditional transition from summer to autumn, Xinhua News Agency published a deeply reflective photo essay asking a question many people feel but rarely articulate: Why can’t we let go of summer?
The feature, produced by the Xinhua Photography Department and compiled by Cheng Tingting, weaves poetic text with approximately 30 archival photographs taken between 2020 and 2026. It captures the emotional and cultural weight of summer in Chinese life—from the intensity of the gaokao season to the bittersweet farewells of graduation, and from summer leisure to the quiet labor of the harvest.
The Timing: Start of Autumn and the Lingering Heat
The essay arrived on August 11, just four days after 立秋, the 13th solar term in the traditional Chinese calendar and the first of autumn. This year, Start of Autumn fell on August 7 at 19:42 Beijing time. As Xinhua’s analysis of the solar term explains, the astronomical arrival of autumn does not mean meteorological autumn—most of China remains firmly in summer conditions, with the China Meteorological Administration forecasting above-normal temperatures and four notable heat waves through August.
The tension between the calendar’s promise of autumn and the persistence of summer heat mirrors the emotional tension the photo essay explores: even as the season turns, the feelings and memories of summer linger.
Summer as a Rite of Passage
Central to the essay’s narrative is the role of summer as a season of pivotal life transitions. Every June, millions of Chinese students sit for the gaokao, the national college entrance examination that shapes their futures. The photographs capture students embracing teachers before entering exam halls, high-fiving for encouragement, and releasing paper airplanes carrying their wishes into the sky.
“Every summer, there is a group of young people who entrust their hopes for the future to a journey called the gaokao,” the essay reads. “The passion and perseverance of youth are all left behind in the scorching month of June.”
This connection between summer and academic destiny is deeply embedded in Chinese culture. A separate Xinhua report on post-gaokao life published in June documented how students across the country spend their summer after the exam—traveling to historical sites, learning new skills, and preparing for university applications.
The Bittersweet Beauty of Graduation
The essay also lingers on graduation season, describing it as “summer’s gentlest regret.” The flame tree (凤凰花) flowers that bloom in May and June across southern China have become a powerful cultural symbol of farewell and new beginnings. Photographs show graduates at Peking University and Renmin University tossing their caps, alumni at Fudan University reenacting the gesture years later, and even Harvard graduates in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
“On the road of growth there are always many ‘goodbyes,’” the essay reflects. “Just as summer always returns, reunions always follow ‘goodbye.’”
Agriculture and the Cycle of Seasons
The feature also connects summer to the agricultural rhythms that shaped Chinese civilization. Photographs capture rice harvesting in Hunan, wheat field management in Heilongjiang, and starry skies over rice paddies. The closing metaphor compares human effort to summer rice seedlings that “quietly settle in time, silently grow through the years, until the autumn wind rises and we harvest our own abundance.”
This agricultural dimension reflects the deeper cultural logic of the 24 solar terms, which were originally developed to guide farming. As Xinhua’s cultural feature on Start of Autumn notes, the term marks the shift from growth to harvest—a transition that applies as much to human lives as to crops.
A Universal Longing
While rooted in Chinese cultural traditions, the essay’s appeal is universal. The photographs span the globe—from the Neva River in St. Petersburg to a lavender farm on Long Island, from a mist spray in Budapest to a kite festival in the West Bank. The shared experience of summer’s warmth, leisure, and intensity transcends borders.
The essay concludes with a wish that resonates far beyond China: “May every one of you who gave your all this summer not disappoint your youth, not disappoint your efforts. May every one of you who waved goodbye with ease not forget the past, not fear the future.”
As autumn begins and the heat slowly recedes, the question of why we can’t let go of summer may have a simple answer: because summer is not just a season, but a repository of our most vivid hopes, efforts, and farewells. The season passes, but what we carry from it endures.