The longest night

The longest night is coming, and for me that is more important than Christmas. It is the end of the old year and the beginning of the new. It is very important to me have something evergreen in the house as a symbol of the end of one year and the start of a new year. Every year, no matter where I am, I make sure I bring in at least a tiny evergreen branch.

For many years, although I've had wonderful, wonderful, wonderful Christmases, I've not had a real tree with the ornaments Llara and I made when she was three. This year I do.

The tree is tiny, but it's real. I've put cotton on it to reflect snow. I don't use lights or real candles as so many people who live in parts of Europe do.

It might surprise people when I say last year was a good year. One might disagree pointing out I had four eye surgical procedures, breast cancer, 27 nukings, and I lost my oldest and dearest friend. She's crazy, people might say.

On the other hand, I now see better, I've had wonderful medical care in the Swiss health system. I've made new and cemented old friendships, had a good writing year and seen another book published with a contract for the next, found a wonderful partner for my business, enjoyed trips to Saskatchewan, Scotland and Germany. I've laughed a lot. I watched a good friend turn 75 surrounded by people who love her. My daughter is in grad school in Edinburgh.

Soon the sun will bring longer days. In the spring new plants will once again push up through the dirt. To get to the new year, I celebrate the longest night.