Samhain a shift in reality.
The bright warmth of summer and the cold dark of winter never touched the Celtic people gently. They lived by the rhythm of the land; the boundary between summer and winter was sudden. At no other point in the year did life seem so fragile.
During this time a flurry of activity took place; the final harvest was gathered and stored. Survival depended on this harvest; a bad crop could cause many problems or even death.
Livestock was brought closer to home, no longer would they have the freedom they had during the summer months
The air sharpened, the light softened, and the days drew short. Nights stretched long and heavy. To the Celtic peoples of Britain and Ireland, this was Samhain — summer’s end. More than a change of weather, it was a total turning point: a passage into the dark half of the year, when death became the central theme of life. Everyone felt the shift. Unlike today, when to some,the seasons slip by unnoticed, this was a matter of hunger or plenty, survival or loss.
The Festival of Summer’s End
Samhain was one of the four great fire festivals of the Celtic calendar, alongside Imbolc, Beltane, and Lughnasadh. Where Beltane welcomed the light and fertility of summer, Samhain marked its opposite — the dying of the year, the descent into cold and uncertainty. Across the Celtic lands, similar rhythms were observed: in Wales, for example, Calan Mai mirrored Beltane, celebrating the arrival of summer and the flourishing of life, while Calan Gaeaf marked the first day of winter and the end of the harvest, echoing the themes of Samhain. Imbolc and Lughnasadh also had their Welsh counterparts, connecting communities to the cycles of the land and the balance between light and dark, growth and decline. Together, these festivals charted the year in fire, feast, and reflection, keeping people closely attuned to the seasonal turning of life and death.
The Otherworld Draws Near
Samhain was understood as a time when the veil between this world and the Otherworld’s grew thin. The dead could cross over, and so could the fairy folk, who were feared as much as they were honoured. These were not the playful sprites of later folklore but powerful, unpredictable beings. They could bless or curse, protect or destroy.
Families set out offerings of food and drink for these spirits, hoping to win their goodwill. An empty place might be left at the hearth or the table for departed ancestors. At the same time, disguises — animal skins, masks, ragged costumes — were worn to confuse or frighten away anything negative that might slip across with the good spirits.
The night was also a potent one for divination. With the boundary between worlds blurred, it was believed to be easier to glimpse what lay ahead. Rituals involving apples, nuts, mirrors, or firelight were used to foretell marriage, fortune, or even death. In this way, Samhain was both fearful and hopeful.
English Folklore and the Dead of Autumn
Though Samhain is most often spoken of in Irish and Scottish contexts, echoes of it resonate across English folklore too, especially once Christianity took root. In medieval England, the nights around the end of October were bound up with death, spirits, and ritual remembrance.
One practice was souling. On All Hallows’ Eve and All Souls’ Day, the poor would go from door to door singing or praying for the souls of the departed, receiving in return “soul cakes” — small spiced breads. This mingling of charity, remembrance, and appeasing the dead echoes older patterns of leaving offerings at Samhain.
Masks and disguises appear in English tradition too. “Mumming” — costumed processions and performances — was common in late autumn and winter. Its roots lie in the same impulse as Samhain disguises: to blur identities on nights when spirits walked abroad.
Welsh’s version of Samhain – Calan Gaeaf
The Welsh version of Samhain is called Calan Gaeaf, with the night before known as Nos Galan Gaeaf or Winter’s Eve. It is also referred to as Ysbrydnos, “Spirit Night.” Like the Celtic Samhain, Calan Gaeaf marked the first day of winter and the end of the harvest season, a liminal threshold when the veil between the living and the dead was thin. Traditions mirrored those of the other Celtic lands; hearths were honoured, offerings were made, and communities remained vigilant against spirits that roamed the night.
One famous figure of Welsh folklore associated with this night is the Tail-less Black Sow(Yr Hwch Ddu Gwta ). The spectral being was said to roam on Nos Galan Gaeaf. This fearsome creature was believed to chase or capture the last person lingering near dying bonfires, serving as both a warning and a chilling story to ensure people returned home before nightfall. A good way to get children to bed, I guess, but it sounds pretty scary to me. I would love to learn more about this tale’s origins.
Gods and Goddesses of Samhain
We cannot be certain which gods or goddesses the Celts specifically honoured at Samhain, or even if they did at all, although several figures from mythology are closely linked to this liminal season, embodying death, transformation, and the cycles of life. Some are mentioned in texts, in connection with the festival, while others, such as Cerridwen, are often associated with it. Below, I’ve highlighted four key figures, though there are many more.
The Morrígan
The Morrígan, the Irish goddess of fate and Sovereignty, is said to emerge from Oweynagat, the Cave of Cats, during Samhain. The cave was considered a gateway to the Otherworld, where spirits could pass into the mortal realm. In the Cath Maige Tuired (Second Battle of Mag Tuired), she meets the Dagda at the River Unius, giving him vital knowledge about the coming battle — where enemies would strike and how they could be defeated. Her presence during Samhain reflects her role as a guide, a prophet, and a force of transformation.
Cerridwen
Cerridwen, the Welsh goddess of transformation and keeper of the Cauldron of Awen, mirrors the themes of endings and beginnings central to Samhain. Her cauldron, a symbol of hidden wisdom and transformation, resonates with this dark, reflective season.
Cernunnos
Cernunnos, the horned god of the wild, fertility, and the underworld, embodies the cycles of life and death. Though few stories specifically place him at Samhain, his domain over animals, nature, and liminal spaces aligns with the festival’s rhythms.
The Cailleach
The Cailleach, the hag goddess of winter, rises at Samhain to claim the land for the dark months. She roams the countryside, shaping storms, hardening the earth, and marking the season’s power. She is also tied to Samhain bonfires, which were lit to honour her, protect communities, and guide spirits through the thinning veil.
If you’re intrigued by these or other figures and their connection to Samhain, I encourage you to explore the myths yourself. There is a lot of documentation of stories, local traditions, and folklore surrounding each goddess and god. Reading the original tales and researching how different communities celebrated Samhain can deepen your understanding of their power, their personalities, and the ways they shaped this liminal season. I have listed some books below for further reads.
Samhain Today
For many modern pagans, witches, and folklorists, Samhain has been reclaimed not only as a historical festival but as a living practice. It remains a time to honour ancestors, to reflect on mortality, and to recognise the cyclical nature of life and death. For those walking a spiritual path close to the old ways, Samhain is not just Halloween’s shadow — it is a moment when the world still feels split, and the old stories stir in the cold air.
I highly recommend the Pagan Portals books. Take a look here
Cerridwen: Celtic Goddess of Inspiration by Kristoffer Hughes
The Book of the Great Queen by Morpheus Ravenna .