I have come to a point, where except for Solstices and Equinoxes, I don't pay much attention to dates and such. I pay most of my attention to what Nature is doing. I key what I do, what I think, to the Sun and the Moon, the Major Stars (for me, mostly the North Star and the Great Bear, as well as the Hunter and his Dog) and the Winds, the animals and plants that are born, mature, fruit, seed, and die here in my home ecosystem. When the ice on the creeks and rivers forms and when it breaks up. When the snow comes and when the lightning first strikes. When the chokecherries appear and when the grasshoppers are seen and when the geese come winging through, south and north.
I have noticed, for me, that some days and nights are more liminal than others, as well as the dawn and the gloaming. For tradition's sake, I do love Samhuinn and Yuletide, but sometimes my antennae wave more on certain other days and nights. You can feel it in the air and in the earth when the Powers are about, for their own reasons, own purposes, own pleasures.
This week, this is the third day, the winds have knocked like a questing hound against the loose panes, and last night the snow dusted us. Such things are not always tied to Christian nor Roman calendars. For Sun and Moon, I read the calendar. But not for the rest. The Land has its own Calendar, and that is the one I am trying to learn now.