It’s also a time when thoughts merge with dreams, when the symbolism of the dying year collides with the birth of a new one. In our own brumation, we get the rare chance to dance with liminality, to drift between different worlds, and to make the imaginative leaps that will light the months to come. I can think of few things more enticing.

I experience a definite slowing at this time in the year, a distinct pull towards inactivity. It’s as though some unseen hand has reached into the universe’s control panel and increased inertia, adding an extra drag to each new action. I am being pulled inwards, towards slowness and stillness. Resistance is increasingly futile.