The Coming of Spring
Alban Eilir, Vinya Loa, and the Vernal Equinox
This year, March 20th marks the astronomical spring equinox here in the Northern Hemisphere, the date on which day and night are (roughly) equal on our journey to the summer solstice. In most traditional cultures, astronomical events like solstices and equinoxes marked significant moments in the ‘wheel of the year’, and were earmarked for festivals, group rituals, and opportunities for personal reflection. In later religious traditions, key mythological events were often overlaid onto these transition points, allowing classical observances to continue in a new cultural context.
To honour this important day, I wanted to talk a bit about the significance of this event, both in ‘primary world’ traditions and in Middle-earth.
After a long, dark, and often bitterly cold winter, the coming of spring is, quite unsurprisingly, often a time of great celebration and relief. After all, particularly in premodern times, mere survival of winter was often not guaranteed. And at the very least, a respite from the long grey days is a welcome change, especially here in London. While autumn is a time of death and descent into the belly of the Earth, spring is its converse: a time of rebirth, renewal, and expansion.
Below are some examples of festivals held during this time (in the Northern Hemisphere):
In Jewish and Christian traditions, both Passover and Easter are calculated based on the equinox—with the former occurring (usually) on the first full moon following the March equinox, and the latter on the first Sunday following.
In Ancient Rome, the festival of Hilaria, literally a time of ‘merriment’ or ‘cheer’, was a celebration held in honour of Cybele, mother of the gods, and was classically filled with masquerades, communal games, and myriad other forms of merry-making.
Many Neopagan traditions (particularly those with strong Germanic influence) use the vernal equinox to venerate Ēostre, the West Germanic goddess of the Spring. I should note that much has been said about the supposed ‘Pagan’ origins of the Christian Easter celebration, mostly arising from the use of names relating to ‘Easter’ in Germanic languages. But beyond this regional etymological link, such notions are largely unfounded.
Across Asia, an array of equinox celebrations are observed, including the Japanese Buddhist holiday of Higan, which uses the motif of changing seasons to reflect the Buddha’s transition from saṃsāra to nirvāṇa.
In the Americas, a long-standing observance of the equinox across many cultures is well-evidenced by the astronomical alignments of traditional structures like the Temple of Kukulcán at Chichén Itzá. Similar structural alignments can be found around the world, including at the Mnajdra temple complex in Malta and the Grianan of Aileach in Ireland.
In addition to the above (and many other festivals not mentioned), numerous societies treat the transition to Spring as the start of a new year. This is the case in Iranian, Albanian, Turkic, and some Caucasian cultures, as well as in Baha’i and certain Muslim religious traditions. Of course, the Chinese and Tibetan New Years are also observed around the beginning of Spring, though this is calculated based primarily on lunar (rather than solar) cycles—thus the new year can begin as early as January. While the custom of beginning a new year at or around the winter solstice is itself very old, it certainly makes sense that many cultures would treat the emergence of spring as the clearest time of renewal. It is, in a way, a more optimistic and immediately gratifying option for a ‘New Year’ observance. As the world around us changes, so does our behaviour. Gone are the days of retreat and ‘hibernation’—now is the time for sowing seeds and preparing the ground for new growth.
In Chinese and Tibetan elemental ‘astrological’ traditions, spring is associated with the Wood element and the eastern direction—both of which are linked to the notion of upward growth and the ‘dawning’ of new life. Wood is both strong and pliable, representing power as well as creativity and mutability. While the Metal element of the west (associated with Autumn) drives energy downward, the Wood element brings it up and towards the heavens, as seen in the growth of flora during this time. Rooted in the stability of the Earth, and nurtured by the emotional depth of the wintery Water, the dynamism of Wood ultimately helps to feed the passionate and joyful Fires of summer. It is a fundamentally optimistic and active force, so long as we can keep our more Metallic tendencies (like coldness, rigidity, and grief) at bay.
In tropical astrology, the vernal equinox also marks the beginning of Aries season, initiating a new astrological year (itself reflecting a classical notion of the ‘year’ beginning in Spring). As the first sign of the zodiac, Aries is believed to embody themes of initiation, boldness, and fresh starts, in part due to its association with the beginning of spring. It is a ‘cardinal’ zoidion—as are all signs that start at the solstices and equinoxes—in this case belonging to the Fire triplicity. As opposed to the ‘fixed’ signs that appear in the stable middle of a season, or the ‘mutable’ signs that appear at the unstable end, cardinal signs fearlessly lead the charge into a new quarter, embracing impermanence as an existential asset. Aries is also ruled by Mars, a classically malefic planet, but one that governs passion and drive, supporting the growth and expansion of the spring season. Just as new life bursts forth around us in the ‘natural’ world, Aries inspires us to step forward boldly, shedding winter’s inertia and seizing opportunities with enthusiasm and confidence.
In modern Druidry (particularly the Order of Bards, Ovates, and Druids or OBOD), the spring equinox is known by the Welsh name Alban Eilir, coined by Iolo Morganwg to refer to the beginning of the ‘fresh/green’ (eilir) ‘quarter’ (alban). In addition to honouring the occurrence with an equinox ceremony, many modern Druids use this day as an opportunity to plant seeds, study, dance, and make art. It is further associated with the shamrock or trefoil, most commonly associated with St. Patrick’s Day (another equinox-adjacent holiday). While associated with the trinity in the Christian tradition, many consider the shamrock’s significance among Celtic peoples to be originally rooted in the motif of the ‘triple goddess’, which often featured prominently in springtime celebrations.
Spring Celebrations in Middle-earth
In ‘Tolkienian’ tradition, the spring equinox is likewise identified as an important time in many societies in Middle-earth. Numerous festivals are said to have occurred around this period, both among the Eldar (elves) and Edain (humans). But perhaps the most important event associated with this period is the destruction of the One Ring on March 25th. It is widely assumed that Tolkien selected this day due to its long-standing religious significance in the Catholic Church, as March 25th was classically associated with myriad legendary occurrences including the crucifixion, Mary’s conception of Jesus, and even more seminal events like the creation of Adam and Abraham’s sacrifice. But putting primary-world religious conceptions aside, the period surrounding the spring equinox was always a time of great significance for the peoples of Middle-earth.
Among the Gondorians, the beginning of spring was known as Tuliérë (literally ‘spring day’), and was marked by an extra-calendrical feast day which properly fell outside of the twelve named months. This custom was introduced, along with other observances, by Mardil Voronwë, the first Ruling Steward of Gondor, who revised the Gondorian calendar in TA 2060. We know virtually nothing about how this ‘feast day’ would have been observed among the Men of the Third Age—we merely know of its existence due to the information presented in Appendix D of The Lord of the Rings—but it was likely based, at least in part, on the Númenórean rite of Erukyermë (the ‘Prayer to Eru’), one of three public ceremonies held on the summit of the Meneltarma in Númenor. This, too, occurred at the beginning of spring, and seems to have marked a kind of ‘ceremonial’ New Year, distinct from the civil New Year in midwinter. As is explained in ‘A Description of the Island of Númenor’, this was an opportunity to offer “prayer for the coming year […] in the first days of spring”.
After the Fall of Sauron at the end of the Third Age, however, King Elessar (Aragorn) again revised Gondor’s calendar to change the Gondorian New Year to March 25th. While this was clearly mainly due to the timing of the destruction of the Ring, it also brought Gondor’s yearly cycles into closer alignment with the ceremonial calendar of the ancient Númenóreans, which was itself based on long-standing elvish tradition.
For the elves, the observance of the New Year, or Vinya Loa in Quenya, always occurred at the beginning of spring, beginning with the ‘First Day’ (Q. Yestarë), which occurred roughly around our own March 29th. This was preceded by the ‘Last Day’ (Q. Mettarë) of the previous year, which was akin to a ‘New Year’s Eve Day’. Like the Gondorian festival of Tuliérë, these two days fell ‘outside’ of the established months and were reserved for celebration. We regrettably don’t have much information about how such events were observed amongst the Eldar, but it is reasonable to assume that the festivities would include many types of activities familiar to later Germanic and Celtic peoples. Dancing may certainly have been involved, particularly since Lúthien’s famous dance for Beren in the forests of Doriath was said to have occurred at this time, as is recorded in The Lay of Leithian (lines 717-722):
“A night there was when winter died;
then all alone she sang and cried
and danced until the dawn of spring,
and chanted some wild magic thing
that stirred him, till it sudden broke
the bonds that held him, and he woke”
Turning to the hobbits of the Shire, the vernal equinox marked the beginning of the fourth month in the official Shire Calendar, which Tolkien ‘translates’ as Astron (a modernisation of Old English ēastermōnaþ (literally ‘Easter-month’). The ‘true’ Hobbitish Weston name for this month, however, is unknown. Amongst the peoples of Bree and the Eastfarthing, this month was known by a different name, again ‘translated’ as Chithing, based on Old English ċīþ, meaning ‘scion/shoot/sprout’. Whatever the original Westron term was, it was clearly meant to indicate a time of ‘germination’, when the first verdant sprouts begin to emerge from the thawing ground.
After settling in the Shire (in TA 1601), the hobbits adopted an augmented form of the old ‘King’s Reckoning’ of the Dúnedain for their own calendar, which placed their official New Year in midwinter. But original hobbitish calendrical systems were necessarily far less fixed, based principally upon the movements of the Moon—and New Year observances seem to have been aligned to the equinoxes, rather than the solstices. As is noted in The Peoples of Middle-earth (in the section on ‘The Calendars’), “The Wild Hobbits were said to have begun their year with the New Moon nearest the beginning of Spring. The settled Hobbits for some time began their year after Harvest, or after the introduction of regular fixed months on October the first. A trace of this was left in the keeping of October 1 as a minor festival in the Shire and Bree” (127). It is likely that, much like the Númenóreans, hobbits retained some kind of recognition of a springtime ‘New Year’ festival at the beginning of Astron. At the very least, it would have been a time of great celebration (as well as hard work) as The Shire and surrounding regions emerged from the sleepy winter into the vibrancy of the growing season.
Honouring the Coming Spring
In our modern world, seasonal transition points are often far less impactful than they were in ages past. The average daily routine of an office worker, after all, rarely differs very much from summer to winter. But acknowledging the cycles of the seasons is a valuable way of connecting more deeply with our living world. There are many ways that one could do this: from planting a few seeds in the garden (or even in some pots on the windowsill), to waking up early to watch the Sun rise on the first day of spring, to gathering with loved ones to feast and dance in the growing warmth of the lengthening days. Even just taking a walk around your neighbourhood to notice all the new buds and sprouts can be a lovely way to spend an afternoon.
For those with a connection to the Pagan pantheons of old, the vernal equinox is a lovely opportunity to connect with springtime goddesses like Ēostre. But for those who don’t align to any particular religious or spiritual tradition, Tolkienian mythology provides us with a lovely framework to engage in the ‘subjunctive’ magic of ritual and ceremony without the bondage of belief. There is no shortage of ways that a Tolkienist can take inspiration from the Legendarium at this important seasonal juncture. March 25th has even been established as Tolkien Reading Day, when fans around the world take some time out to read Tolkien’s works. A number of events (both in-person and online) have emerged around this event, so there are many opportunities to join with fellow Tolkien-lovers to dive into the Legendarium.
Personally, as someone who is generally predisposed to ritual arts, I plan on holding a small ceremony on March 25th to honour the anniversary of the destruction of the Ring. For it, I have made a simple wooden ring (I’m using bamboo from my garden), on which I will write down things I’d like to relinquish or leave behind from the previous year. I’m also including some more general ‘human’ dynamics that I wish we could eradicate, like ‘cruelty’, ‘prejudice’, ‘domination’, and the ‘pursuit of power’. I will then prepare a small fire in my garden, and take some time to read the ‘Mount Doom’ chapter of The Return of the King by the fireside before tossing my wooden ring into the blaze. Once the fire burns out, I will use the ashes to nourish the plants in my garden, and plant some seeds for the new growing season ahead.
However you choose to honour the coming of spring, I do hope that you’ll take the opportunity to connect with this important moment in the wheel of the year—and if you feel called to do so, please share your equinox festivities in the comments below!
Nai lye hiruva airea tuilë!