The Veil Between Worlds

As the last leaves fall and the days shorten, the ancient festival of Samhain marks the end of the Celtic year and the beginning of the new. Celebrated on 31st October, it was once seen as a liminal time when the veil between worlds grew thin and the spirits of ancestors could draw near.

On the Isle of Man, this turning of the year takes its own distinct form: Hop tu Naa, or Oie Houney. Here, echoes of old ways still survive, turnips carved into flickering lanterns, songs carried on the wind, and the sense that the world is holding its breath between the seasons.

Capturing the Essence

We set out to capture the spirit of Oie Houney/Samhain on the Isle of Man, not as a recreation of the past but as a reflection of its essence today. We wandered into Druidale, a landscape that feels outside of time, quiet hills wrapped in mist, the scent of peat and heather, and the last rustle of leaves before winter stillness.

Before we left, Ciara got out the trusty spoon and started carving a moot, a lantern to ward off evil spirits but also a beacon to guide our ancestors. We wanted to show the meeting of human and landscape, the sense of ritual that still lingers in places like this where stories and seasons seem to merge.

The Meaning of Samhain

In the old Celtic calendar, Samhain marked the end of the harvest and the beginning of winter, the closing of one year and the birth of another. It was a sacred threshold, the light half of the year giving way to the dark.

Fires were lit to honour the sun’s dying light and to protect the community through the cold months ahead. People believed that spirits roamed freely on this night, so offerings of food were left at the doorstep, not out of fear but out of respect and remembrance for those who had come before.

It was also a time to take stock of what the year had brought, the grain stored, the animals sheltered, the lessons learned. Samhain was a night of reflection, gratitude, and preparation.

Hop tu Naa and Oie Houney

Long ago, the Celts celebrated Samhain and on the Isle of Man, this night became known as Oie Houney, the island’s own mark of the old year’s end and the dark half’s beginning. Today, that night lives on as Hop tu Naa, a playful folk tradition full of song, light, and mischief. Children wander the lanes carrying candle lit turnip moots singing the Hop tu Naa songs and Jinny the Witch flies over the rooftops to fetch a stick to lather the mouse.

From house to house they go, sharing verses, laughter, and sweets, keeping alive a night where magic, song, and the turning of the year meet, and the boundary between the living and the otherworld feels thin and alive.

These turnip lanterns were first created as a way to ward off mischievous spirits wandering on this night. Their grotesque faces acted as guardians, lighting the path between worlds and protecting the home. Turnips were chosen because they were readily available after harvest, sturdy, earthy, and symbolic of the island’s agricultural roots.

Nature and the Turning Season

The natural world of the Isle of Man also shifts dramatically at Samhain. The rooks and jackdaws flock together in the evening to roost. In the fells, hares grow their thicker winter coats, blending into the browns and greys of the hillsides. Hedgehogs curl up into hibernation, and the raven’s call becomes more distinct against the thinning air. Along the coast, seals rest on cold rocks, and the sea seems heavier, dark and restless, mirroring the mood of the season.

This quieting of the land reminds us that nature too is turning inward, conserving energy for renewal. It is a moment of deep stillness, a sacred pause before the world begins again.

The Human Connection to the Land

Samhain and Hop tu Naa both reflect a truth our ancestors lived by, that humans are part of nature’s cycle, not separate from it. As the earth turns cold, we too retreat, gathering indoors, sharing food, telling stories.

Our ancestors’ rituals were not simply superstition, they were acts of gratitude and awareness. Lighting a moot, singing a song, or leaving out food for spirits were ways of staying connected to the unseen forces that governed life.

When we stand in places like Druidale today, feeling the wind whip across the grass and the light fading early, it is easy to understand why people once felt the need to mark this moment, to honour both the ending and the promise of renewal.

The Cycle Begins Again

As the year darkens, Samhain reminds us that endings are never truly endings, they are transformations. The harvest is done, the fires burn low, but beneath the surface, life stirs quietly.

It is a time to reflect, release, and prepare for what is to come. The old year slips away, and the new one breathes in the cold air of November.

May we carry with us the lessons of the season, to rest when the world rests, to trust in the cycles of nature, and to remember that even in the stillness of winter, the seed of spring is already waiting.