One of the unexpected gifts of homeschooling has been watching how our learning naturally follows the rhythm of the seasons. From icy mornings spent tracking animal prints to long summer days where the creek becomes both science lab and splash zone, each season offers its own lessons—and we try to lean into them.
And by “lean in,” I mean sometimes I forget what day it is because nature is the curriculum, and I’m just along for the ride with my coffee and my three small wild children.
Spring is for Discovery
As the snow melts on the ski slopes, our Fridays shift from field trips via chairlift to actual field trips—complete with backpacks, trail snacks, and the usual post-hike “can we get hot chocolate?” requests. I swear it can be 90 outside and they will still ask if they can have hot coco. But I’m pretty sure they really just want marshmellows…
While we enjoy wildflowers and native plants in our yard, I try to sneak in weeding between impromptu bug hunts and backyard treasure maps. We plant seeds (literally and metaphorically)—though let’s be honest, the metaphorical ones are going better than the actual garden. Someday I’ll get that fenced garden built. For now, I tend my low-maintenance native plants and call it a win.
Spring is all about curiosity. There’s something magical about the weather—suddenly we’re outside nearly every morning again, spotting ladybugs, watching bees, and yes, yes finding every “stink bug that is married” – aka mating stink bugs but I like my daughters description better. Our afternoons shift too, with more bike rides and mini-adventures on my “minivan bike”—aka the e-cargo bike that hauls children, snacks, and half their wardrobe and probably a random pair of shoes, correction, probably just one lonely shoe.
Summer is for Immersion
Long days mean more time outside… except when it’s 95 degrees and I’m pretending we meant to turn our homeschool into a pool school. (Spoiler: we didn’t. But it works.)
During the summer, we pause a lot of our structured lessons and take learning on the road—or to the neighbors deck with popsicles and coloring books. We lean into unstructured play, spontaneous exploring, and reading sprawled out on picnic blankets.
Sometimes, school looks like hiking. Sometimes it looks like camping. And sometimes it looks like me counting jumps at the pool and calling it “P.E.”
It’s less about sticking to a plan and more about letting curiosity and connection lead the way.
Fall is for Rhythm
Even though we homeschool year-round, there’s something about fall that makes us crave structure again. Maybe it’s the back-to-school energy in the air—or maybe it’s the pumpkin spice latte I’ve been bribing myself with to reorganize our bookshelves.
The weather cools, and our focus sharpens. We fall back into morning lessons, gentle rhythms, and more predictable routines (ish). Nature stays central: we observe the changing leaves, talk about migration patterns, and journal the subtle shifts all around us.
There’s a coziness to fall homeschool—a balance between productivity and peace.
Winter is for Stillness
Winter invites stillness. The days are shorter, the hikes are colder, and the urge to pile under blankets with books and cocoa is very real. Now the coco demands make sense. And honestly, we lean in hard.
Our indoor days grow longer, but we still venture out for winter walks, birdwatching, and the occasional “yes it’s raining but we need to get out of the house” kind of adventure. We learn to be content with the quiet—both outside and inside ourselves.
Winter is a great reminder that not all learning is loud. Some of it is slow. Subtle. Sacred.
Homeschooling has helped us see time differently. We don’t follow a traditional calendar, and maybe that’s the point. The real learning happens in the pauses—in noticing, in adjusting, and in aligning ourselves with the world around us. It’s not just about what we teach—it’s about when we’re ready to receive it.
How does your family learn with the seasons? Do you notice your rhythms changing too? Drop a comment—I’d love to hear what your “spring semester” looks like outside the classroom.
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