It’s that time of year.  As the holidays wind down and the New Year is almost upon us, the triple threat of merry, melancholy and malaise have struck once again. And although the sun is mostly shining here in California, I wake in the morning sensing a seasonal weightiness in the air.

I recall December mornings in Minnesota.  Nowhere else will you experience pitch black in combination with bracing cold and deafening quiet. One morning, more than a couple of decades ago, I woke early, my flannel nightgown sewn by my Mom twisted around my legs.  Throwing back the covers