What Is Chuseok? Korean Harvest Festival Explained

Written by a Korean-born writer who spent three decades in the airline industry, sharing what growing up in Korea actually looks like.

Introduction: Climbing a Mountain for a Holiday That Hasn't Arrived Yet

It's an early Saturday morning, about three weeks before Chuseok. A family sets out for a rural hillside carrying sickles and brush cutters.

In the sticky August heat, the men walk through waist-high overgrown grass, their shirts already soaked through with sweat. They're heading toward an ancestor's burial mound.

Nearly an hour of engine noise from the brush cutters echoes through the mountainside before the round shape of the grave finally re-emerges from beneath the thick weeds that had swallowed it.

In short: Chuseok is Korea's harvest gratitude festival, built around beolcho grave-cutting, songpyeon-making, and a gift culture rooted in abundance rather than scarcity — and a proverb that wishes for enough, not more.

A foreign reader would naturally wonder about this scene. It isn't even the holiday itself yet, so why are people already climbing a mountain to clear weeds around a grave no one has visited all year?

This piece unlocks these unfamiliar scenes hiding beneath the surface of Chuseok, one by one, along with the real reasons behind them.

The Origins of Chuseok: A Harvest Gratitude Festival Under the Full Moon

Why English Speakers Call It "Korean Thanksgiving"

English-language media commonly introduces Chuseok as "Korean Thanksgiving." In the broadest sense, giving thanks for the autumn harvest and gathering the whole family, the comparison holds up well.

That said, the two holidays' origins are quite different. American Thanksgiving traces back to 1621, when Pilgrims held a feast to thank God for their first harvest after settling in the New World.

Chuseok, by contrast, traces back much further, to a weaving contest and harvest gratitude rituals from the Silla era. Both holidays share the same core sentiment, gratitude for the harvest, but they grew out of entirely different histories.

A Holiday Born From a Silla-Era Weaving Contest

The origins of Chuseok reach back to the Silla kingdom (57 BC–935 AD). According to the story, a Silla king divided the women of the royal court into two teams for a month-long weaving contest.

On the 15th day of the 8th lunar month, when the contest ended, the losing team treated the winning team to a feast, and everyone spent the day singing and dancing together. This event was called gabae (嘉俳), and over time the word evolved into gawi, and eventually hangawi.

Han means "great," and gawi refers to the middle of autumn, so hangawi literally means "the great day at the middle of autumn."

What the Full Moon Represents

Chuseok falls on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month, when the moon is considered at its largest and brightest of the year. This period traditionally coincided with the harvest, when a year's worth of farming finally paid off.

Farmers offered the season's first grain and fruit to their ancestors before eating any of it themselves. The bright, full moon symbolized abundance and completeness, and ganggangsullae, a dance in which women hold hands and move in a circle while singing, was traditionally performed under this same full moon.

Mystery One: Why Cut Grass at a Grave Weeks Before Anyone Actually Visits It?

Beolcho, the Labor of Late Summer

In Korea, families carry out a custom called beolcho (伐草) before Chuseok, traveling to an ancestor's grave to clear away the overgrown grass surrounding it. Beolcho is usually done not on the holiday itself, but separately, two to three weeks in advance.

Because weeds grow thick over the summer and can completely cover a grave, the site needs to be cleared before seongmyo, the formal visit and bow performed on the holiday itself. This work is typically carried out together by brothers and cousins, and it's genuinely demanding physical labor.

For relatives scattered across different regions, it's also one of the few occasions all year when they actually see each other's faces.

A Grave's Condition as a Measure of a Family's Duty

The reason this custom is taken so seriously seems tied to a customary belief: how well an ancestor's grave is maintained reflects whether the descendants are fulfilling their duty. An overgrown grave isn't just an aesthetic problem, it tends to be read as a sign of neglect.

In recent years, a growing number of beolcho agencies have emerged that handle this labor for a fee, and more families are choosing to pay for the service rather than climb the mountain themselves.

Mystery Two: Why Do People Say a Pretty Songpyeon Means a Pretty Daughter?

Half-Moon Rice Cakes Made for the Holiday

The signature food of Chuseok is songpyeon (松䭏). Rice dough is rolled thin, filled with sesame, chestnut, or bean paste, shaped into a half-moon, and steamed over a layer of pine needles, which is where the character song (松, "pine") in its name comes from.

On the evening before Chuseok, families gather in the living room to make songpyeon together, one of the most iconic multi-generational scenes of the holiday.

An Old Superstition Passed Down Through the Fingertips

There's a long-standing saying in Korea: "If you shape your songpyeon prettily, you'll have a pretty daughter," or alternatively, "you'll meet a good spouse." Older relatives often tease unmarried young women with this saying while everyone makes songpyeon together.

It's hard to say this is taken as a serious belief by anyone today. It functions more like a playful old story that makes the shared activity of shaping rice cakes even more fun.

I still remember sitting beside my grandmother as a child, shaping songpyeon for the first time. What I made looked less like a half-moon and more like a mashed potato.

My grandmother held up my misshapen songpyeon, laughed, and said, "Well, your heart is pretty, at least." I still think of that warmth every single time I see songpyeon.

Mystery Three: Why Does a Single Box of Pears Cost So Much?

Fruit Gift Sets and Corporate Holiday Gifting

As Chuseok approaches, department stores and large supermarkets fill their shelves with elaborately packaged pear and apple gift sets. Fruit graded at the top tier is sold at prices set per individual piece rather than by weight, and a single box can easily run into a substantial sum.

Gift-giving during this period isn't limited to family. Many Korean companies have a long-standing custom of sending Chuseok gift sets to clients and employees, and courier companies handle several times their normal volume in the weeks leading up to the holiday.

Why It's Seen as an Even Bigger Holiday Than Seollal

Which of Korea's two major holidays is "bigger" is genuinely debated among Koreans themselves. That said, looking specifically at gift distribution volume, the annual sales figures department stores report for the Chuseok season regularly hit record highs, often matching or exceeding Seollal season numbers.

This isn't a rigorously verified statistic so much as a pattern repeatedly observed through retail industry reporting. Still, the impression that Chuseok is a smaller holiday than Seollal doesn't hold up well.

For the full picture of Seollal's own gift culture and its very different origins, see this article.

Why Fruit Sits at the Center of the Holiday Gift Culture

Once you remember that Chuseok is fundamentally a harvest gratitude festival, it becomes clearer why fruit became this holiday's signature gift. Giving someone the season's finest fruit has different roots than Seollal's Spam gift culture, which grew out of an era of scarcity.

Fruit reflects the abundance and harvest symbolism specific to Chuseok, and selecting the very best grade is understood as a way of expressing respect for the recipient.

"Not More, Not Less — Just Let Every Day Be Like Hangawi"

This proverb is widely known enough that almost every Korean has heard it. Translated literally, it means: "Don't ask for more, don't settle for less, just let it be like hangawi."

To a foreign reader, this phrase might sound unusual. Most cultures wish for "more" or "bigger," while this proverb instead expresses a feeling closer to, "What we have right now is already enough."

Chuseok sits right after the hard labor of summer farming ends, at the exact moment when grain and fruit have ripened fully, and just before winter begins, a brief moment of balance. A table full of food, family gathered after time apart, a bright full moon overhead: all of this coming together at once is rare, even within a single year.

This proverb captures a modest wish for that balanced fullness to last all year round. It isn't a wish for something bigger, it's a wish for the abundance and peace of this exact moment to simply stay as it is.

Common Misunderstandings

• ❌ Myth: Beolcho and seongmyo are religious rites tied to a specific faith.
• ⭕ Reality: These customs have nothing to do with any particular religion — they're closer to a family tradition reflecting a household's sense of duty toward its ancestors.
• ❌ Myth: Koreans genuinely believe something bad will happen if your songpyeon comes out looking ugly.
• ⭕ Reality: Almost no Korean takes this seriously as an actual belief — it survives as a playful old story that makes the shared activity more fun.
• ❌ Myth: Chuseok is considered a less important holiday than Seollal.
• ⭕ Reality: Which holiday is "bigger" is genuinely debated, and in terms of gift distribution volume, Chuseok is considered just as significant, sometimes even more so.

What Koreans Actually Say

The lines below aren't direct quotes from real interviews — they're representative of the kind of language Koreans commonly use in these situations.

Foreigner: "Why bother with beolcho every year if it's this much work?" Korean: "It's annoying, but if our generation stops doing it, I feel like it'll really end." (thinking: someone has to be the one who doesn't let it slide.)

Foreigner: "Why spend so much on a gift for your parents?" Korean: "I don't have to go this far every time, but seeing their face light up makes it worth it."

Foreigner: "Isn't the trip home exhausting?" Korean: "Honestly, yes. But I'd feel awful if I didn't go, so I just go."

Practical Advice for Foreign Readers

Plan Holiday Travel Early

Traffic congestion and sold-out flights and train tickets during Chuseok are nearly as severe as during Seollal. Foreign readers planning to visit or travel domestically during this period should finish booking at least a month in advance.

Know Which Restaurants and Shops Will Be Closed

Just like Seollal, many independently owned restaurants and small shops close on the day of Chuseok itself. Finding a place open, aside from convenience stores, can be harder than expected.

If You're Invited to Beolcho or Seongmyo

If a foreign reader is invited to join a Korean friend's beolcho or seongmyo, this can be understood as a sign of real closeness. Comfortable clothing, insect repellent, and a willingness to carry tools or help out are more than enough to leave a good impression.

If You Join in Making Songpyeon

Clumsy shapes are never a problem when making songpyeon. Laughing together over an awkward-looking rice cake is the real fun of the activity.

If You Need to Choose a Gift

A well-ripened fruit gift set is a safe, reliable choice for a Korean acquaintance around Chuseok, very unlikely to disappoint.

Learn One Greeting in Advance

Foreign readers who meet Korean people around Chuseok can leave a good impression just by learning a greeting in advance: "Pungseonghan hangawi doeseyo" ("Have an abundant Hangawi"), or more simply, "Jeulgeoun chuseok bonaeseyo" ("Have a happy Chuseok"). Perfect pronunciation isn't necessary. 

For the full calendar of Korea's public holidays, including how Chuseok's date shifts every year, this blog has a complete guide.