On the considerations of wood throughout the four seasons:
According to the *Qiong Tong Treasure*, “In spring, wood still retains some lingering chill. Only when warmed by fire can it avoid the calamity of bending and twisting; when nourished by water, it feels a delightful comfort. However, if there is too much water, the wood will become damp and rot, and if too little, it will wither and perish. Hence, a moderate balance of water and fire is essential. Excessive earth would deplete the wood’s vitality, a worrisome prospect; sparse earth, on the other hand, leads to lush growth. When wood encounters metal at this stage, it becomes sturdy, and even when faced with fire, it remains unharmed. Once strengthened, wood is unafraid of metal and continues to thrive.”
In summer, wood’s roots and leaves become parched. Trees transition from bending to erect, from twisted to stretched. They thrive on ample water but abhor the scorching heat of fire. They prefer thin soil over thick; excessively thick soil spells disaster for wood. They disdain excessive metal but tolerate its scarcity, as an abundance of metal suppresses wood, resulting in a mere forest of flourishing yet fruitless trees, bedecked with layers of beautiful blossoms that ultimately yield no fruit. This is what is meant by “Layer upon layer of trees, flourishing yet fruitless, heap upon heap of splendor, ultimately futile.”
In autumn, wood’s exterior gradually withers and fades. In the early autumn, still imbued with vigor, the flora delights in the nourishment of the earth and water; come mid-autumn, when fruits have ripened, it relishes the crisp touch of metal to sever them from their branches; after the arrival of frost, excessive water is ill-advised, for inundation would leave the wood adrift; prior to the cold dew, a robust fire is welcomed to fortify, for warmth ensures the wood’s resilience. Abundant wood bears the epithet of versatility, yet an excess of soil stifles its independent growth.
In winter, the wood, contorted upon the ground, yearns for more earth to sustain it, fearing an inundation of water. Even in abundance, metal poses no harm, and should fire reappear, its warmth would be welcomed by the wood. When leaves return to the roots, the wood’s decline is inexorable, yet it dreads not extinction, but rather stagnation; it must carve out growth, sustain itself.
Regarding the suitability of soil across the seasons:
In spring, the earth’s influence is most solitary, thus it favors the support of fire, dreading the dominance of wood; it welcomes the solidarity of soil, yet fears the surging waves brought forth by water. When confronted with metal to subdue wood, the earth gains strength, but an excess of metal may deplete its vitality.
Summer’s soil is characterized by its aridity; it thrives when moistened by abundant water, but suffers under the scorching blaze of excessive fire. Wood aids the flames, hence neither wood nor fire is conducive to the soil’s growth. The alchemy of nature unfolds: abundant water nourishes the summer soil, enhancing its vigor. Yet, if earth is overly robust, the synergy with wood becomes crucial to prevent stagnation. In autumn, a delicate balance emerges: excess metal may deplete the earth’s essence, while an abundance of wood can suppress it. Even with a surplus of fire, harmony prevails unless water overwhelms. Winter reveals earth’s resilience: amidst cold, it retains warmth. Exposed to ample water, it thrives; excess metal bestows wealth. Surging fire only enriches the soil, and abundant wood poses no threat. In this season, support from fellow earth brings robust health and longevity, completing nature’s cyclical symphony.
