Autumn at Hanbat Arboretum

There are places we visit, and there are places that quietly become part of our lives.

Hanbat Arboretum in Daejeon has become one of those places for me.

Located in Dunsan Grand Park in the heart of Daejeon, Hanbat Arboretum is one of the largest urban arboretums in Korea. Surrounded by the city, yet filled with trees, gardens, ponds, walking paths, and thousands of varieties of plants, it is a remarkable green refuge where nature and city life exist side by side.

For those who live in Daejeon, it is much more than a botanical garden. It is a place to walk, exercise, sit quietly beneath the trees, watch the seasons change, or simply escape the pace of the city for a while.

Walking through it today, I was reminded that autumn does not arrive all at once.

It comes slowly and almost unnoticed at first—a leaf turning yellow at the edge, a touch of red appearing among the green, fallen leaves beginning to gather along a path. Then, day by day, the landscape changes.

Perhaps that is why I love this time of year so much.

The arboretum invites you to slow down and notice these small changes. The trees seem a little different each time you visit. The light falls differently through the branches. Even the air has changed, carrying that unmistakable freshness of autumn.

In the middle of a busy city, Hanbat Arboretum can feel like another world. There are paths where you can wander without thinking about where you are going, benches where you can sit beneath the trees, ponds reflecting the sky, flowers holding on to the last warmth of the season, and quiet corners where the noise of the city seems very far away.

But what I appreciate most these days is simply being present.

Over the past few months, as I have recovered from cancer surgery and gone through immunotherapy, walking and spending time in nature have become an important part of my healing.

Recovery is not only something that happens in hospitals or treatment rooms.

For me, it has also happened beside rivers, beneath trees, along quiet paths, and in moments when I have stopped long enough to notice how beautiful the world still is.

I have discovered that when I walk more slowly, I see more.

A leaf glowing in the afternoon sunlight. The movement of branches in the wind. Reflections trembling on the surface of the water. The first colors of autumn appearing quietly among the trees.

These are small things. Once, I might have walked past them without giving them much thought.

Now I stop. I look. And I am grateful that I am here to see them.

Maybe that is one of nature's greatest gifts. It reminds us that life does not always have to be extraordinary to be beautiful.

Sometimes beauty is simply an October afternoon, a path beneath the trees, cool air against your face, and the realization that you are fortunate enough to be walking through it. After everything this year has brought, that realization means more to me than it once did.

There is something deeply reassuring about watching the seasons continue to turn.

Trees change.

Leaves fall.

New seasons come. And we keep moving forward with them.

Autumn is only beginning at Hanbat Arboretum. In the weeks ahead, the greens will slowly become gold, orange, rust, and red. The landscape will change again, as it always does.

And I intend to keep walking through it.

Watching.

Noticing. Healing. Being grateful.

Because sometimes the most meaningful moments in life are not the ones we plan.

They are the quiet ones we finally learn to see.