How strange it is to start a new year in the still white of winter. Where, above ground, the world is at rest. Where below ground, roots dig deeper into the darkness. Only the stars are brightest in the winter. Let us lie dormant, and we will see what springs forth when the earth is bright again. Let the storms gather in thick purple heaps. Let the trees and the orange mountain stand bare against an aquamarine sky. Let the hawk hunt on a clear day.