We just passed the spring equinox. And right on cue, my husband smiled and said it — 暑さ寒さも彼岸まで. “Heat and cold both end at the equinox.” Told you so, in the most Japanese way possible.

It’s something his parents said, and their parents before them. A saying passed down through generations the way practical wisdom does — not written anywhere, just spoken at the right moment until it becomes part of how you think.

I always found it charming. A little old-fashioned, in the best way. But after enough years of paying attention, I started to notice that it’s simply true. The equinox arrives, and the weather shifts. Not dramatically — but the grip loosens. Spring gets the upper hand.

That’s the Japanese relationship with seasonal change. It isn’t just observed, it’s named. And Sankan Shion — 三寒四温 — is another expression of that same habit of mind.

Three cold days, four warm ones. Then cold again. Then warmth, a little more settled than before. The cycle repeats, slowly tipping toward spring.

It’s a meteorological pattern, but the Japanese use it as something closer to reassurance. When you know the cold is coming back, you stop being caught off guard by it. And when you know the warmth will follow, the cold days become easier to sit with.

Not a promise — a pattern

What I find interesting about Sankan Shion is that it doesn’t promise you spring. It just describes the rhythm — and trusting the rhythm is enough.

In Japan, you start reading the signs. The plum blossoms come first, while it’s still cold. Then the mejiro — the small yellow-green birds — arrive in the garden, moving through the branches. Then the cherry blossoms, just as the warmth begins to hold. Each one is a marker. Not proof that spring has arrived, but evidence that it’s on its way.

That kind of attentiveness is something the concept quietly encourages.

How it feels growing up with this rhythm

I grew up with this rhythm, though I didn’t have a name for it as a child. It was just how March felt — unreliable, but not unkind. Some days you needed a coat. Some days you didn’t. You learned not to put winter away too soon.

Now I think about Sankan Shion whenever I catch myself getting impatient with something that moves in cycles. A project that stalls. A season that overstays. The reminder isn’t that things get better — it’s that they move. Cold follows warm, warm follows cold, and the direction is slowly, quietly, forward.

You don’t have to be in Japan to recognise it

You don’t need to be in Japan to recognise this pattern. Most places that have a real winter know it — the false starts, the days that feel like April followed by days that feel like February. The name just makes it easier to hold.

Giving something a name changes how you experience it. Instead of “the weather can’t make up its mind,” you have a concept with a shape. Three cold, four warm. A rhythm, not a problem.

At The Wabi Sabi Shop, the products we carry tend to come from the same philosophy — things made with an understanding that daily life moves in cycles, and that what you use every day should be worth reaching for, even on the cold days. See what we carry →