Zac Explains Audits: Volume 026

The Myth of Four Seasons (and Four Audit Phases)

“We are taught that there are four seasons in a year, but when you are outdoors, in the countryside, all the time, you come to realise that actually there are hundreds.”
– Jeremy Clarkson, writing from his farm

From Speed to Soil: Jeremy Clarkson’s Unexpected Pivot

For most of the 2000s and early 2010s, Jeremy Clarkson was known as the brash, loud, often controversial frontman of Top Gear, a BBC television show about cars. But calling it “a show about cars” is like saying The Office is “about paper.” Top Gear was a cultural phenomenon- a mix of absurd stunts, global adventures, and banter between three middle-aged British men who managed to make vehicle testing emotionally resonant (and genuinely funny).

Clarkson, flanked by co-hosts Richard Hammond and James May, drove supercars across deserts, attempted to build amphibious cars out of vans, and once launched a car into space. But after leaving the BBC, Clarkson didn’t fade into obscurity. Instead, he made a wild career pivot- he bought a farm in the Cotswolds.

And then he did what Clarkson does: he filmed the entire chaotic thing.

Introducing Clarkson’s Farm

Clarkson’s Farm, now a hit Amazon Prime series, documents Clarkson’s well-intentioned but woefully inexperienced attempt to run “Diddly Squat Farm.” At first glance, it might seem like another gimmick, but it’s actually insanely sincere. Clarkson quickly learns that farming is not just hard, it’s emotionally and environmentally complex.

In the show, Clarkson remarks that although we’re taught there are four seasons, spring, summer, fall, winter, working the land reveals something different: there are dozens, maybe hundreds, of “microseasons.” Each shift in the air, the behavior of animals, the readiness of crops, and even the color of the morning dew hints at a new stage. It’s a nuanced dance that a calendar cannot capture.

This insight didn’t originate with Clarkson, of course, but his realization echoed something ancient.

The 72 Microseasons of Japan

In traditional Japanese culture, there aren’t just four seasons. There are 72. Yes, seventy-two.

These microseasons, known as Shichijūni kō (七十二候), are part of the ancient Japanese calendar and divide the year into subtle transitions like:

• “East wind melts the ice” (Feb 4–8)

• “Insects awaken” (March 5–9)

• “The first cherry blossoms bloom” (March 26–30)

• “Cicadas sing” (July 7–11)

Each microseason lasts around five days, celebrating tiny environmental changes most of us overlook. The entire system is a practice in attentiveness, an encouragement to observe not just what’s happening, but what’s shifting.

It’s a beautiful framework for understanding the world.

And oddly enough, it’s a useful metaphor for internal audit.

Internal Audit’s "Four Seasons" Lie

In nearly every introduction to internal audit, whether in textbooks, training programs, or onboarding decks- we’re taught the same cycle:

1. Planning

2. Fieldwork

3. Reporting

4. Remediation

Clean, tidy, symmetrical. Like the calendar seasons.

But spend enough time in an audit department, just like Clarkson did in his fields, and you realize: those stages aren’t monoliths. They’re filled with dozens of microphases, tiny shifts, and invisible transitions. If you don’t know how to recognize them, you’ll miss what matters most.

Just like a farmer who ignores when the wind changes.

What Are Audit Microseasons?

Let’s unpack the audit “year” a little more closely. Within each of the four audit phases, there are multiple distinct microseasons- moments that require different mindsets, skills, and reactions.

Planning

Microseasons might include:

• “Initial Spark” – The moment someone flags a concern or risk area.

• “Scope Wrestling” – Internal back-and-forth over how big the review should be.

• “Stakeholder Sensing” – Figuring out who is friendly, hostile, or indifferent to the audit.

• “Control Surfacing” – When undocumented controls quietly emerge from hallway conversations.

Planning isn’t a static phase, it’s a whirlwind of conversations, strategy decisions, and stakeholder psychology.

Fieldwork

Often depicted as the grind of testing and documentation, fieldwork actually contains:

• “Interview Season” – Where personalities, politics, and passive-aggressiveness come out.

• “Testing Purgatory” – Waiting for documentation that may or may not arrive.

• “Oh No” Moments – When something very unexpected surfaces.

• “Control Gold Rush” – The thrill of discovering an elegant workaround or undocumented process.

Fieldwork can be dry, but it also contains tension, drama, and “gotcha” moments (both good and bad).

Reporting

This phase hides some of the most delicate microseasons:

• “Tone Calibration” – Figuring out how strong or soft to word the findings.

• “Battle of the Draft” – Wrestling with management comments or pushback.

• “Language Games” – The dance of replacing “deficiency” with “opportunity for improvement.”

• “The Panic Proofread” – The last 10 minutes before sending it to the audit committee.

Reporting isn’t just writing, it’s positioning, diplomacy, and precision.

Remediation

Often treated as a checkbox follow-up, remediation has its own weather:

• “Initial Acknowledgment” – Management promising to “own it” (even if they don’t mean it).

• “Delay Season” – When target dates get pushed.

• “Band-Aid Boom” – When fixes go live without long-term thinking.

• “Audit Memory Loss” – When no one remembers why the control was needed in the first place.

Remediation is less about tracking fixes and more about understanding change behaviorally.

Why Microseasons Matter in Audit

Just like a farmer doesn’t sow in the rain or harvest in a frost, an auditor shouldn’t treat each audit phase the same way at all times.

Recognizing these microseasons helps you:

• Avoid audit friction – You’ll know when to escalate and when to wait.

• Time conversations better – Pitching a controversial finding? Don't do it during the “Panic Proofread.”

• Understand stakeholder fatigue – Are they dodging you because it's “Testing Purgatory” on another audit?

• Make smarter adjustments – You can pivot without breaking the entire project.

It’s the difference between forcing your calendar on the company and adapting your rhythm to match its climate.

Slow Down. Look Closer. Audit Better.

It’s tempting to rush. To check the boxes. To follow the four phases like they’re Gospel. But audit, like farming or seasonal living, rewards those who pay attention to the small signs.

If you see your organization only in quarterly snapshots, you'll miss the slow erosion of risk culture.
If you only document what’s on the surface, you’ll miss the undercurrents pulling the business toward failure.
If you only notice change when it’s disruptive, you’ll never catch it while it’s still influenceable.

Instead, try this:

• Set aside time every week to observe, not test, not plan, just observe.

• Journal what feels different in a department or process compared to last month.

• Talk to the same stakeholder twice in a cycle and notice if their tone changes.

• Track how often plans shift, and see if there’s a pattern worth reporting.

Audit is not about control testing. It’s about understanding how people and systems evolve under pressure. And like Clarkson learned in the mud of Diddly Squat, you can’t do that from a distance- or with a fixed calendar mindset.

The Real Audit Calendar

Maybe it’s time we build our own audit “microseason” calendar.

One filled with tiny reminders:

• “Stakeholder schedules begin to freeze” – early Q4

• “Budget battlefields reopen” – late Q1

• “Control rationalization blossoms” – post-M&A

• “Policy dust settles” – after system go-lives

We don’t audit seasons.
We audit change.
And change rarely fits in four tidy boxes.

See your audit year for what it really is: a living, breathing cycle of microseasons.
And just like Clarkson learned- there’s beauty, chaos, and unexpected clarity in every one of them.