Sensing the Seasons
Nature's Magic Revealed Through Traditional Calendars
As a high school student, I fell in love with Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I loved the magic and wonder of the summer forest that the play invoked.
When I learned it is set at the summer solstice, the title seemed odd to my young mind. “Why is it called ‘Midsummer’ when the solstice is the beginning of summer?”
At heart, I knew Shakespeare had it right. I grew up in southern Mississippi. Our summer started in May, which was pretty warm. By late June, the heat and humidity felt oppressive enough that my mom, sister, and I would spend whole afternoons in the community swimming pool.
Many years later, I learned that, according to the Celtic/Gaelic calendar, Shakespeare titled his magical play appropriately. Beltaine festivals celebrated the beginning of Summer in early May. The summer solstice, called Meán Samhraidh, marked Summer’s midpoint.
When I learned about the other points on the Celtic cycle of the year, I could see that they were still acknowledged in the modern year. Samhain became Halloween. Imbolc became Groundhog Day.
What we lost, I realized, was the alignment of these times of the year with the cycles of Nature. The Celts relied on agriculture and sensed how nature changed throughout the year. Imbolc was when the ewes gave birth. They knew it was time to start their spring planting. On the other side of the year, in August, at Lugnasad, fruit would fall from the trees. It was time to reap the harvest.
Once I learned about the Celtic year, I stopped caring whether Phil saw his shadow or not on Groundhog Day, because I knew spring had arrived. Sure enough, within a week, snowdrops and crocuses would pop up. I would notice a sudden shift towards longer days and shorter nights about this time.
In August, the reverse happened. Suddenly, the days got a bit shorter and the nights longer. Summer’s heat would break for a couple of days. Apples would appear at the farmers’ market. I would feel sad that summer was ending, even though, by our calendar, it was a little over halfway through.
I discovered that in Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), seasonal alignments are similar to the Celtic Wheel of the year. In Chinese philosophy’s Five Element Theory (Wǔxíng), the interaction between water, wood, fire, earth, and metal determines health and well-being. Each element governs a season: wood-spring, fire-summer, earth-late summer/early fall, metal-late fall, and water-winter. Aligning with the seasons through diet and lifestyle is vital.
In Wǔxíng, the fire season shifts into earth in August. Plants and fruits filled with the fire element from the Sun drop to the earth. The landscape begins to shift from deep green to a golden hue.
Over the last few years, I have become familiar with the Traditional Chinese solar terms (Jiéqì), a calendar based on the Sun’s astronomical positions. It is an important guide for agricultural timings. Like the Celtic festivals, these solar terms trace the sun’s movement, but with finer seasonal distinctions.
The Beginning of Spring, around early February, is the solar term that marks the start of the cycle. A new season comes every two weeks or so. Rainwater follows about mid-February, for example. The cycle completes with Major Cold in mid-January.
Japanese Tradition takes the nuance of the solar terms even further. They observe 72 seasons, known as Kō. These micro-seasons change every 5 days or so. Their names are expressed in poetic language.
The season the Chinese call the Beginning of Spring and the Celts call Imbolc, is referred to as East Wind Melts the Ice in Japan. The Equinox is called Sparrows Start to Nest.
Over the years, my attention to these calendars has shifted how I perceive the seasonal changes. I feel them in my body as much as I observe them in the landscape.
Winter has long been a time when I wanted to do nothing but sip hot beverages, linger in the bath, and sleep as much as possible. My busy schedule would not allow for that most years.
Per usual, January 1, 2026 brought up resolutions, goal-setting, and getting things done. My whole being resisted following the conventional advice.
Winter called me to stillness and inner reflection. Work felt difficult. I had little energy for my martial arts practice. Thankfully, my schedule was lighter this January. I could rest and dream more.
Despite the wild February storms that blow through Washington, DC, the Beginning of Spring felt like the release of a tightly coiled spring at my core. My energy perked up. I craved movement and long walks in Nature again. I paid attention to the flowers popping up through the snow. At that point, I decided to track the solar terms in my desk calendar.
A couple of days after the Chinese Incests Awaken solar arrived in early March, I came across a moth clinging to my window screen, tiny fruit flies flitting just outside, and a tree cockroach sauntering along a sidewalk.
I could hear the excitement among our local birds about the change of seasons. Before dawn, I heard crows greet each other. The mornings became alive with bird song. Eastern Towhees, House Finches, Cardinals, Carolina Wrens, Sparrows, and Brown-headed Cowbirds joined together as a chorus.
“Maybe they’re celebrating the Incests Awakening.” I mused.
Grokking that people once found a detail like incests awakening from the winter was important opened my senses to a broader view of the world. I felt like celebrating with the birds.
Last week, during the equinox, I observed the light of the rising sun stretch across the National Mall, like a causeway. The movement of the Sun was important to this city’s architects, I realized.
Spending the Mid-Spring day observing the Sun gave me a new sense of balance. I could see it in the hue of the daylight and the stretch of shadows. It felt the poetry of this fleeting season when Caterpillars Become Butterflies in Japan’s Kō calendar.
Paying attention to the subtle shifts of the seasons has brought wonder to my senses. Perhaps attuning to the subtle seasons observed in the Celtic, Chinese, and Japanese traditional calendars can reconnect humans to Nature’s harmony and rhythm. It has certainly gifted me with the magic Shakespeare reflected in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.