One thing about years now: They pass so quickly that it almost seems pointless to make a big fuss over their arrivals and departures.
But still, a year change is a moment, and so I will mark it now in this quiet living room with the tree still in full holiday regalia, books and journal by my side, three loads of laundry, a tidied freezer and vacuumed floor under my belt. The price I pay for writing time, a price I may have to stop paying if I'm ever to write more than these blog posts. And if there's a hint of a resolution in there, so much the better!
Fast away the old year passes ... whether marked by sundial or computer clock ... it passes ...