Every year Yule approachs me as if a rampaging bull. And each year I fail to engage. This year is no different I think, a combination of being in denial of a cold, work, family and failing in many ways to focus on the next book.
This lack of engagement is evident that I actually started this blog entry on the 14th, and have just picked it up again to finish a week later.
Yule is my least favourite festival as I feel the furthest from spring and summer. The nights are long, cold and wet. As much as I love autumn with the colour and fading green, the depths of winter that are to come drain me.
It is a good time for reflection but I tend to be unable to focus on such tasks as I miss fresh air.
Time for a walk I think.