In the Southern Hemisphere, we are observing Lughnassadh, the first harvest, while friends in the Northern Hemisphere prepare for Imbolc, a celebration of light returning. The Feast of the Virgin of Candelaria, syncretised with the orisha Oya, overlaps with Imbolc on 2 February.
As an immigrant from the U.S., I’ve often reflected on the disorienting nature of holidays divorced from their seasonal origins and attached to fixed calendar dates: Halloween in spring, Easter in autumn, and Christmas in summer. While the Sabbats align with the seasons, the beliefs and traditions of the Wheel of the Year remain firmly rooted in the Northern Hemisphere, which can feel out of place here in Australia. Adding to this, I don’t resonate strongly with Celtic deities or culture. This holiday period, therefore, provides an opportunity to reflect on seasonal, cultural, and spiritual themes and how to find my way through the Sabbats.
The seasons in Australia
In Australia, the meteorological seasons divide the year into four equal three-month periods: summer from 1 December to 28/29 February, autumn from 1 March to 31 May, winter from 1 June to 31 August, and spring from 1 September to 30 November. These dates, used for weather reporting and daily life, are based on the calendar rather than natural shifts in temperature or daylight.
By contrast, astronomical seasons are determined by the Earth’s position relative to the Sun. The summer solstice (~21 December) marks the longest day and the peak of solar energy, while the autumn equinox (~20 March) signals the balance of light and dark, marking the transition into autumn. Similarly, the winter solstice (~21 June) is the shortest day, and the spring equinox (~23 September) brings increasing light and warmth.
While meteorological seasons provide a fixed structure, astronomical seasons align more closely with natural cycles. In Australia, the meteorological calendar places summer from December to February, whereas the astronomical model sees summer beginning at the solstice and ending at the equinox. Lughnassadh (~2 February) falls in late summer, roughly halfway between the solstice and the equinox, marking the transition towards autumn.
A brief history of Lughnassadh and Imbolc
Lughnassadh is a Gaelic festival that takes its name from the Irish god Lugh, a deity of many skills, including craftsmanship, warfare, and rightful kingship. In Irish mythology, Lugh established the festival in honour of his foster mother, Tailtiu, who died after clearing the land for agriculture. Traditionally celebrated on 1 August in the Northern Hemisphere (about halfway between the Summer Solstice and Autumn Equinox), Lughnassadh marked the first harvest, a time to gather grains and give thanks for abundance. Communities came together at the top of hills and mountains to offer the First Fruits, make sacrifices, enact ritual dance-plays, and feast.
Imbolc, celebrated on 1 February in the Northern Hemisphere (about halfway between the Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox), is a Gaelic festival marking the beginning of spring. It is associated with Brigid, the Irish goddess of wisdom, healing, protection, smithcraft, and poetry. Historical sources suggest that Imbolc customs centred around the onset of the lambing season and preparations for spring sowing.
These ancient festivals became part of the Wiccan Wheel of the Year through the influence of James Frazer, Robert Graves, and Margaret Murray, the efforts of Gerald Gardner and Ross Nichols, and popularisation by Doreen Valiente. Given Wicca’s English roots, it’s unsurprising that the Sabbats adopt Anglo-Saxon and Celtic motifs.
The Sabbats in our lives
Despite my best efforts, I do not connect with Lugh or Brigid. I acknowledge them and pay my respects during these holidays, but that is the extent of my relationship with them. This opens up an opportunity to explore the deeper themes of the Sabbats through alternative lenses. Lughnassadh is fundamentally about the first harvest, gratitude, and abundance—universal themes that can be honoured outside a specific cultural or pantheonic framework. Similarly, Imbolc’s focus on light, purification, and renewal resonates across traditions.
One way to approach these Sabbats is through metaphor. Lughnassadh can be a time to reflect on personal and communal achievements and express gratitude for the past year’s efforts and rewards. On the other hand, Imbolc can be a time to nurture the spark of creativity and set intentions for future growth. Those with multispiritual practices might honour deities or spirits aligned with these themes from their traditions.
Another perspective is to explore different mythic cycles. A common Wiccan framework ties the Wheel of the Year to the relationship between the Goddess and God. In this view, Lughnassadh marks the God’s sacrifice, ensuring the earth’s bounty, while the pregnant Goddess acknowledges this balance of life and death. This narrative can be adapted or replaced with other spiritual frameworks reflecting personal beliefs and experiences.
But between you and me, I have moved away from Lughnassadh and Imbolc altogether. Aussie Pagans know well that the European concept of four seasons—and, by extension, the Wheel of the Year—does not reflect Australia’s environmental reality. Indigenous Australians observe seasonal shifts based on the night sky, weather, and ecological changes. For example, the Northern Territory’s Ngan’gi calendar has 13 seasons, while the Ngadju calendar of Western Australia divides the year into Hot Time and Cold Time, with additional seasonal markers. In Wurundjeri Country, where I live, there are seven seasons. We are transitioning to late summer: the days are warm to hot, vegetation is dry, and the risk of fire increases. In Victoria, the harvest season spans from November to April, peaking in February.
Unlike the Equinoxes and Solstices, which are tied to clear astronomical events and can be celebrated independently of specific cultural traditions, the cross-quarter Sabbats such as Lughnassadh and Imbolc stem from pre-Christian Celtic practices with layered mythologies. Their relevance in Australia is entirely dependent on personal interpretation. One can connect with them culturally, metaphorically, or spiritually, but they may not resonate if one prefers rituals that align with the landscape’s rhythms.
Is there anything specific to observe in Australia at this time? In Wurundjeri Country, it is Biderap, the Dry Season. Lughnassadh falls between the peak, not the start, of summer and the official beginning of autumn. Is this moment of transition worth celebrating? Maybe, maybe not. It depends on how you choose to engage with the cycles of nature and the meaning you assign to them.
My approach this year
Although my personal and spiritual connection to Lughnassadh and Imbolc has shifted, that isn’t reflected in my relationship with the community. I may not set up a home altar or privately observe these Sabbats, but for Lughnassadh, I may gather with local friends. While the holiday doesn’t fully resonate, I will focus on connecting with the community and still pay my respects to the Old Gods. For Imbolc, I’ll wake up far too early to join my South Florida coven remotely to honour our shared traditions of rededication and new beginnings.
Spirituality is not static. It evolves as we do, shaped by where we live, who we are, and the communities we belong to. By embracing this fluidity, we can adapt, reimagine, and create rituals and traditions that are both personal and connected to the world around us.
