The Space Between Seasons: Frost Descends, Changing Climates, and Preparing for Winter

When the calendar says autumn is ending, but the garden hasn't gotten the message.

Tomorrow, October 23, marks Frost Descends, or Shuang Jiang, the final solar term of autumn in the traditional Chinese calendar. In just a couple of weeks, we'll arrive at the Beginning of Winter, marking another turn of the seasonal wheel. This is supposed to be the time when the first real frosts have arrived, the garden has largely surrendered, and the natural world is preparing for its long winter rest.

Except, here in Nebraska, things aren't quite following the script.

We've had some chilly nights, but we haven't experienced a true hard freeze yet. There are still mosquitoes buzzing around, butterflies visiting the garden, and flowers blooming as though they have absolutely no intention of calling it quits. My garden is still alive, and while I'm grateful for the extra growing time, it's also a little unsettling. It feels like we're running about two solar terms behind where we would normally expect to be.

It's been a strange year, to be sure.

I've been thinking a lot about what it means to follow the seasons when the seasons themselves seem to be changing. The 24 solar terms have been used for thousands of years to observe the natural rhythms of the year, dividing it into roughly two-week periods. They originated in China and reflect seasonal patterns that aren't identical everywhere, especially here in the American Midwest. But when you follow them year after year, you begin to notice the patterns in your own landscape, too. You recognize the changing light, the movements of plants and animals, and the subtle shifts that tell you what comes next.

And then you have a year like this one.

I find myself wondering what our seasons will look like in another ten, twenty, or fifty years. How will climate change alter the familiar signs we've learned to recognize? Will the first hard freeze continue creeping later into autumn? Will we still have butterflies visiting flowers in late October? What happens to the plants, insects, wildlife, and agricultural rhythms that have developed around these seasonal expectations?

One unusually warm autumn doesn't tell us everything about the future, of course, but it certainly makes me pay attention. There's something disorienting about looking at a calendar that says one thing while the world outside seems to be telling a different story.

That Strange In-Between Time

In a more typical Midwestern October, Frost Descends makes a great deal of sense. By Halloween, our nights are usually getting pretty cold. The days are noticeably shorter, and even when the sun is shining, the warmth doesn't necessarily last. Sometimes we've already seen snow by this point in the year.

It's the season when we start retreating indoors a little more. We embrace those unexpectedly beautiful afternoons, knowing there might not be many left, and we hunker down when the weather turns cold, wet, and windy. The mosquitoes have usually finally died off, which is certainly one of autumn's greatest gifts.

Farmers are wrapping up harvest, or at least getting close. This year things have been running a little behind, but there's still the expectation that the fields will be finished by mid-November. The growing season is coming to an end, even if it's taking its sweet time getting there.

As a gardener, this is usually when my work outside begins to change. There might still be some squash or pumpkins to process, root vegetables to put away, or a few final tasks to finish before everything freezes. But the urgency of summer has passed. I'm no longer trying to squeeze every possible task into every hour of daylight.

Instead, I'm already dreaming about next year's garden. I'm thinking about what I'll plant, where things should go, what seeds I'll need to start indoors in February and March, and how much easier everything would be if I finally had a greenhouse.

Inside the house, the heater might be running more often. The iced coffee starts giving way to something hot. Soups, stews, blankets, candles, and warm baths become a little more appealing. And when the time changes in November and darkness starts arriving ridiculously early, that feeling of winter approaching becomes almost impossible to ignore.

Meanwhile, Thanksgiving and Christmas are suddenly right around the corner, and we're looking at the calendar wondering how on earth there are only two months left in 2026. What happened to all those projects we were going to finish this year?

That's the strange thing about this particular stretch of autumn. We're not quite ready to settle into winter, but we're no longer living in the frantic abundance of July, either.

There is still work to be done. Some of us still have gardens to finish putting to bed, firewood to cut, animals to care for, and projects that really do need to happen before the snow flies. But the pace is changing. We're standing in a doorway between two very different seasons, not entirely belonging to either one.

And perhaps that's why this time of year has always felt a little mysterious.

When the Veil Grows Thin

Across many cultures and traditions, late October and early November have long been associated with death, remembrance, ancestors, and the unseen world. We see it in celebrations like Samhain, Día de los Muertos, and All Souls' Day, each with its own distinct history and meaning.

It's often said that this is the time of year when the veil between the living and the dead grows thin.

Whether you interpret that spiritually, symbolically, or simply as a reflection of the changing natural world, there's something about this season that invites us to consider what lies beyond our everyday routines.

The garden is dying back. The trees are letting go of their leaves. The landscape is becoming quieter, and the darkness is arriving earlier each evening. It's a season that naturally turns our attention toward endings, memory, and the things we cannot always see or explain.

Maybe that's why we tell ghost stories around this time of year. Why we remember loved ones who have passed. Why an unexpected noise outside or a sudden chill down the back of your neck feels just a little more suspicious in October than it does in June.

There's a certain magic in the transition, even when it's a little unsettling.

And I think there's value in allowing ourselves to experience that in-between feeling rather than rushing past it. We don't have to be fully in winter mode just yet. We can still enjoy the last flowers, the lingering butterflies, and those unexpectedly warm afternoons while also acknowledging that something is changing.

Caring for Yourself Through the Seasonal Threshold

In Traditional Chinese Medicine, the transitions between seasons are especially important times to pay attention to how we care for ourselves. Autumn is associated with the Lung and Metal element, while winter brings us into the season of the Kidney and Water element. We're moving from a time of gathering, sorting, and letting go toward a season traditionally associated with conserving our energy and replenishing our reserves.

One of the simplest pieces of seasonal advice in TCM is also one of my favorites: stay warm, especially around your feet and the back of your neck.

In traditional Chinese medicine, exposure to cold and wind is understood as one way the body's defenses can become challenged. The back of the neck is considered particularly vulnerable to wind, which is one reason scarves and keeping the neck covered are such familiar recommendations.

I have personally experienced those autumns when I get chilled, come down with something, and then feel like I'm fighting one illness after another for the rest of the winter. It can feel as though there's a threshold to get through before the body settles into the colder season.

If you've been outside working in the garden or enjoying a beautiful afternoon and the temperature suddenly drops, don't just stay chilled for hours. Change out of damp clothes, put on some warm socks, make a cup of tea, or take a warm bath. These small seasonal habits are easy to overlook, but they're also simple ways to care for ourselves.

This is also a wonderful time to shift toward warmer foods and drinks. I love mineral-rich herbal teas during this season, especially nourishing blends that can become part of a daily routine. Room-temperature or warm water, herbal infusions, and broths are lovely ways to maintain hydration as the weather cools.

And then there are all those wonderful seasonal foods. Sweet potatoes, pumpkins, winter squash, carrots, and other deeply colored vegetables are rich in carotenoids, including beta-carotene, which the body can convert into vitamin A. They fit beautifully into the warming soups, stews, and roasted meals that start sounding so good this time of year.

Traditional Chinese Medicine also places importance on nourishing the Kidneys as we move toward winter, and warm, mineral-rich broths and soups are a lovely way to begin making that transition. Don't be afraid to use your herbs and seasonings generously. Garlic, ginger, thyme, rosemary, cinnamon, and so many other familiar kitchen herbs can bring warmth, flavor, and a little extra seasonal support to your meals.

This doesn't need to become an elaborate wellness routine. Sometimes supporting ourselves through a seasonal transition is as simple as eating a bowl of homemade soup, putting on warmer socks, and remembering to drink something other than coffee.

Making Room for the Months Ahead

There's another seasonal practice I think deserves more attention: fall cleaning.

We talk a lot about spring cleaning, but autumn might actually be the more practical time to give our homes some attention. We're about to spend considerably more time indoors, so why not make those spaces a little more comfortable?

Open the windows on the nice days while you still can. Deep clean the carpets, dust the corners, wash the blankets, and clear out some of the clutter that has accumulated during the busier months. Let go of things you no longer need, finish a few lingering projects, and make room for the slower days ahead.

I don't mean turning your home into another overwhelming to-do list. Quite the opposite. Think of it as preparing a space where you'll actually want to spend your winter.

There's something satisfying about coming inside after a cold day to a warm, comfortable home. A place where you can make tea, curl up with a book, work on a quiet project, or simply exist without feeling like you should be somewhere else.

We're not quite at the season of deep winter rest yet, and that's okay. There are still things to finish, meals to prepare, holidays to plan, and plenty of work happening outside.

But perhaps this is the time to start making space for what comes next.

Learning to Live in the Space Between

I don't know exactly what the coming winters will look like. I don't know whether next October will bring an early freeze, snow before Halloween, or another garden full of flowers and butterflies long after I expected them to disappear.

What I do know is that paying attention to the seasons has made me more aware of the world around me. It has taught me to notice changes I might otherwise overlook, to recognize patterns, and to appreciate that nature rarely follows our schedules perfectly.

This year, those patterns feel a little less predictable. And perhaps that's another reason to keep observing them.

Frost Descends reminds us that winter is approaching, even when the weather hasn't quite caught up. The light is still changing. The days are still growing shorter. The fields are still being harvested, and the garden will eventually settle down, even if it's stubbornly refusing to do so just yet.

We're in the space between seasons, where there's still work to do but the urgency is beginning to soften. Where we can enjoy one more warm afternoon while preparing for the cold nights ahead. Where we can remember those who came before us, dream about what comes next, and find a little magic in the uncertainty.

So I'm curious: How are you embracing this strange in-between season? Are you still harvesting from your garden, finishing outdoor projects, or already settling in with blankets and hot tea?

And if you'd like some individualized support as we transition into the colder months, whether that's acupuncture, herbal medicine, or guidance on seasonal wellness, I'd love to see you at Full Scale Wellness.