When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life.

For the days of Auld Lang Syne, my love
I wanna drink a cup of kindness with you
For the sake of the days gone by

No space of regret can make amends for one life’s opportunity misused.

If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.

Under cloud, beneath the stars
Over snow one winter’s morn
I turn at last to paths that lead home
And though where the road then takes me
I cannot tell
We came all this way
But now comes the day
To bid you farewell

With this I sign off