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It’s eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. It is a still quiet day. With the tips of my fingers on the cool glass I can see the squirrel’s drey in the black linden tree like the viewing platform on top of the CN tower. It’s so quiet out there I wonder if the drey is abandoned. A pale gull slides across the sky. Squirrel's drey from the kitchen 1st Jan 2023 New Year’s Eve is a strange moment. It’s like big birthdays - thirty, forty, fifty - they are not really any different from any other birthday, any other day of the year even, but there’s a big build-up. We endow them with significance. New Year’s Eve isn’t the only time to set resolutions. It isn't intrinsically the end of one year or the beginning of the next. Different cultures have different dates for it, but it has symbolic meaning to us. Which is not to dismiss it, the passing of the seasons is as much part of us as the stages of a life, and rituals are important. But there’s something about this arbitrariness of the date ...