We seem to be here, all over again—this year is ending just for me, another begins just for you. We will have to get used to writing eight instead of seven, we will have to get through January and the rest of winter before we can lie down in spring green. The planet has not been paying attention to things as impermanent as days of the week or the time, preferring instead to watch the moon and the stars and the seasons, hugged to the sun and the centre of everything.