Turning the Wheel: A Settler’s Reflection on the Eight Seasonal Festivals

By Jamie Black • Wild Craft Play

As a third-generation settler of Scottish and Irish descent, I’ve spent my life on the unceded territories of Indigenous peoples along the Pacific Northwest. I was born in 100 Mile House on Secwépemc (Shuswap) territory, carried at three weeks old to Errington on Snaw-naw-as and Qualicum lands, and today I live and work on the territories of the Ligʷiłdax̌ʷ (Laich-kwil-tach) peoples and the We Wai Kai First Nation.

These lands have shaped me: the cedar, the tides, the rains, the berry bushes, the winds that travel across islands, and the teachings of the people who have lived here since time immemorial.

At the same time, I carry a lineage that comes from another land entirely—Scotland and Ireland—where my ancestors followed the Celtic Wheel of the Year, a cycle of eight festivals marking solstices, equinoxes, and the cross-quarter days between them. These festivals continue to help me make sense of the rhythm of the seasons, even as I learn to live responsibly on lands that hold their own deep, longstanding cycles.

This blog post is a reflection on how these two relationships—ancestral and present-day—intertwine.

🌀 What Is the Wheel of the Year?

The Wheel of the Year is a framework of eight seasonal festivals widely recognized in Irish and Scottish cultural histories. They include:

• Samhain (Oct 31)

• Yule / Winter Solstice (Dec 21–22)

• Imbolc (Feb 1–2)

• Ostara / Spring Equinox (Mar 20–21)

• Beltane (May 1)

• Litha / Summer Solstice (June 20–21)

• Lughnasadh / Lammas (Aug 1)

• Mabon / Autumn Equinox (Sept 21–23)

These traditions arise from lands with different weather, ecology, and agricultural rhythms than those of the Pacific Northwest. So when I honour these festivals on Indigenous territories, I do so with humility and care, knowing that these lands have their own seasonal teachings held by the Nations whose homelands I occupy.

🌿 Holding Two Lineages: A Settler’s Relationship with Place

Growing up in Errington on Vancouver Island, the seasons spoke a different language than those in Ireland or Scotland.

As a settler in Canada, we have trees like Cedar, Maple and Fir, we have animals like wolf, bear and eagle, and sometimes the species shared in Celtic lore are not here, but it doesn’t mean we can’t learn something from them.

Instead of snowdrops appearing at Imbolc, I noticed the return of rain, early buds on salmonberry bushes, and the subtle lengthening of daylight.

Instead of ancient stone circles for the solstices, I seek the wide-open sky over the Salish Sea.
Instead of heather and hawthorn, I learned cedar, salal, sword fern, and fir.

Living on Coast Salish and Laich-kwil-tach lands has taught me that every place has its own Wheel—its own ecological rhythm, informed by salmon runs, tides, lunar cycles, berry seasons, storm patterns, and fire seasons.

These teachings belong first to the Indigenous peoples of these territories, and I remain a learner, a guest, and a respectful witness to them.

For more on Indigenous seasonal rounds and ecological calendars:

• First Peoples’ Cultural Council 

🔄 How I Use the Wheel Today

Instead of imposing Celtic cycles onto this land, I use the Wheel as a personal inner rhythm, influencing my relationship to the landscape.

Here’s how the festivals show up for me as a modern settler living on the west coast:

Yule — Turning toward the light in the darkest, stormiest months on the coast.

Imbolc — Welcoming the faint signs of hope: longer days, early buds, and the creative spark that returns after winter.

Ostara — Feeling the balance of light and noticing the burst of coastal spring.

Beltane — Celebrating vibrancy, fertility, and the abundance of life returning.

Litha — Gratitude for the fullness of summer, long days, and unfiltered connection with the land.

Lughnasadh — Honouring the first harvests, from berries to garden herbs, and offering thanks.

Mabon — Acknowledging balance again, preparing for darker days, harvesting what the year has taught me.

Samhain — Honouring ancestors, reflecting on endings, and acknowledging the impact of my family’s arrival on these lands.

Each point on the Wheel invites me to consider my responsibilities:

• What am I taking from these lands?

• What am I giving back?

• How do I honour the Indigenous peoples whose territories I live and teach on?

• How do I help the youth I work with understand their own connections responsibly?

🍁 Why This Matters in My Work with Wild Craft Play

Through Wild Craft Play and Earth Guides, I help youth and adults reconnect with nature, story, and seasonal learning. Embracing my ancestry helps me guide others to reconnect with their own roots—without appropriating Indigenous teachings.

Holding the Wheel of the Year alongside the teachings of the land here allows me to:

• Teach respect for local ecosystems

• Honour Indigenous sovereignty

• Encourage settlers to explore their own cultural histories

• Foster a relationship with place grounded in gratitude and responsibility

The Wheel becomes not a prescription, but an invitation.
Not a map of the land, but a map of self-awareness.

🌞 Living the Questions

I don’t pretend to have all the answers. Instead, each festival is a moment to ask better questions:

• How do I live as a responsible guest on these lands?

• How do I honour my ancestry without overshadowing Indigenous teachings?

• How do I teach youth to listen deeply to the land beneath their feet?

• How do I cultivate gratitude, reciprocity, and humility?

The Wheel continues to turn, and with each rotation, I learn more about where I come from—and how to walk more respectfully where I am now.

If you are interested in this work and want to collaborate, please reach out or visit www.wildcraftplay.com/collaborate.

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