The name for the month of May may be derived from Maia, the wife of Vulcan and mother of Mercury, Roman goddess of the green growth of spring. Roman Maia may have been a native deity to the Italic peoples, possibly representing spring, though no myths survive to shed light on this shadowy ancient deity. All that we do know of her relationships and her name is a conflation with the Greek deity, Maia, the eldest of the Pleiades, lover of Zeus and mother of Hermes. However, in Greece, Maia is not associated with spring, but with mothering and fostering children. She is also not youthful or linked to fertility. She presides over the daughters of Atlas as the diligent eldest sister, and her name is used as an honorific for mature women, particularly midwives. These qualities did not transfer to Roman Maia — which lends weight to the idea that Roman Maia is a local deity under an imported name.
There is no reason to associate Greek Maia with the time of year between the spring equinox (the new year for most of the ancient world) and the summer solstice. Roman Maia, whatever she was called before acquiring her remembered name, was probably a more properly vernal deity. She certainly presided over the green world. But, viewed through the lens of recorded history, it seems strange that such a minor deity would have a Roman calendar month named for her. Unless she was not minor… Unless she was nothing less than eternal renewal…
Ovid seemed to think that Maia was too small a girl to claim a month. He claimed that May and June were named for Elders (maiores) and Youth (iuniores). This makes more linguistic sense, if not temporal sense. (Why would elders be honored in the spring?) But it does fit the way that most months were named in early Rome. Most Roman month names are unimaginatively utilitarian, not derived from names of gods or archetypes. More than half are strictly numerical; all but four are rather…shall we say… plebeian…
January is often said to be named for Janus, except Janus is a deification of the new year. Janus, or Ianus, literally means “gate”. So Janus is probably named after the new New Year, not the other way around. February is sometimes claimed to be named for Juno Februa, but that’s another case of chicken and egg. Februa means “cleaning” or “purification”, activities that were long associated with the the equinoctial new year, long before Juno took on that epithet. Then there’s March, the first month in the old Roman calendar. March is named for Mars, the Roman patron and god of war. Except that’s not the whole story, and the narrative holes reveal something interesting.
Mars was not originally Roman, nor was he a martial deity. Mars is not even an Indo-European name. Mars, or Maris, was the Etruscan god of agriculture. Roman Mars retained this agricultural association even after becoming the Roman cognate of Ares and assuming all the militaristic belligerence the Greek god of war. Most of the ritual associated with Mars focused on securing a successful harvest, and the central annual rites for Mars took place around the autumnal equinox, after military campaigns of the summer were winding down. Notably, the Etruscan verb “mar” means “to harvest”.
Originally, the months following June were numbered. But Julius Caesar named his birth month, originally Quintilis, for himself (don’t let Trump hear that or he’ll get ideas…) and Augustus received the month after Julius. January and February were tacked on to the end of the year in the 5th century BC so that the solar year better fit the lunar rhythms. But these months were distinct afterthoughts… It’s the original first four that held significance. March, April, May and June. Harvest, love, spring and youth. (Or elders and youth, if you follow Ovid…)
So… What do these names reveal about the Roman notion of time? Or deity?
We have March, named for an ancient Etruscan god that presided over the land’s fertility. Then April, which is commonly derived from the Etruscan name for Aphrodite, the goddess of love, though it may also come from the eminently practical *ap(e)rilis, which simply states the obvious — it means “following”, as in “the next month”. Then May. Which could be named for a renamed Etruscan goddess of plant life and spring, or for elders. But in a mytho-poetical interpretation, “elders” could also be plant life, our elder ancestors, particularly the trees; and spring is usually portrayed as ancient youth. Then comes June… Which is commonly thought to be named for Juno. Who is her own muddle… She’s cognate with the Greek Hera and sister-wife to Jupiter, patron of matrons, stately empress of the gods. But her name means “the young one”, and many believe that she may have been a personification of the new moon, or new beginnings more generally. Much like Maia, who blended Greek matron with Etruscan maid, Juno is both the crescent moon and the queen in her fullness.
I don’t know about you, but I see a gentler world than the Roman Empire in these four primal names. I see a world centered on fertility and renewal. A world markedly more maternal, more feminine than the imagery of gladiators and centurions. These names constituted the core of the Roman ritual year. This was how they made sense of their sensed world, how they celebrated, how they remembered. This was how they named time. These were their essential ideas of divinity. This was who they were…
But…
Is that how you see Rome? Is this how Rome is portrayed by historians? More importantly, did Rome see itself as a series of great men like we see in history books? Maybe the great men did. But the older, more common and more enduring self-perception seems to have been a bounteous, fertile, inspirited land, a joyful people under the aegis of the ancient gods of Spring and Love and Youthful vigor. There are no great men in their ideas of time.
Does this analysis perhaps present history in a different light? And… how does this consideration of history change how you perceive your present? Is this a world of great and violent men? Maybe superficially. Maybe to the great men who control imagery. But to you? To most people?
How do you live? How do you name your days? What do you honor with your time? What names are on your lips each day? What gods are at the center of your world? I am willing to bet that harvest and love and renewal are closer to your core, more true to your identity, more authentic to your place and time than any mediated narrative. I think you probably know Maia and Mars, Juno and April better than any egotistical caesar.
Think about it. Consider it well. Look at your life as it is… This is crucial to change. Because once you see, once we all see what is real and true and solidly enduring in life, the great men all fall, becoming nothing but empty words in forgotten books…
So find your divinity. Let those be the names of reverence undergirding time. Orient your world around that. Let that be your path through this darkness. Let that be what you see in this life.
Because that is real.
The Wednesday Word
for 6 May 2026
divinity
What does divinity mean to you? Think about it. If you’d like, send me a quick poem or story… or just a few thoughts. If you really have something to say, maybe enter my Wednesday Word contest on AllPoetry.
©Elizabeth Anker 2026
By My Solitary Hearth 