The Traditions We Return to Each Year

With less than two months left in 2026 and Thanksgiving approaching, I find myself thinking about the traditions we return to each year. Familiar foods, moments of gratitude, and wishes for those we love give meaning to the passing seasons.

A tea gathering depicted in an ukiyo-e print by Toshikata Mizuno (1866–1903). The kettle rests over a sunken hearth, called a ro, used from November to April.

In tea practice, robiraki (炉開き)—the opening of the sunken hearth—marks the beginning of the winter season and is often called “the tea practitioner's New Year.” The hearth is traditionally opened on the Day of the Boar because lighting a fire on this day was believed to protect against fire disasters. In the traditional five-element system—wood, fire, earth, metal, and water—the boar is associated with water, which overcomes fire.

To mark the occasion, we enjoy inoko mochi (亥の子餅), sweet rice cakes shaped to resemble wild boars, with wishes for health and prosperity. Today, November 9, is this year’s Day of the Boar. I made inoko mochi to celebrate. They may not be the prettiest sweets, but every year when this season arrives, I crave their familiar taste.

Homemade inoko mochi (亥の子餅) and a bowl of matcha, welcoming the season with wishes for good health.

While these ancient customs can feel distant from modern life, there is something precious in repeating them with a heartfelt wish. We remember those who came before us, give thanks for what sustains us, and hope for the well-being of those we love. By enjoying customs like these, we help keep traditions alive.

Thanksgiving, too, brings us back to familiar tables and moments of gratitude. The customs are different, but the desire to mark the season with care feels familiar.

On the Japanese seasonal calendar, winter has begun, though autumn’s colors still linger in New York. As the leaves fall and the days grow shorter, these small traditions help me pause and notice the changes around me—and within myself.

Autumn’s colors still linger, changing slowly day by day. They feel especially rich this year, even as leaves fall and plants prepare for winter.

In a world that moves so quickly, making a seasonal sweet and sharing a bowl of tea is one way I return to nature’s rhythm and to myself.

Wishing all of you a peaceful and heartfelt season.

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The Lingering Moon and Kintsugi