We said goodbye to 2025 with heavy snow on the ground and no electricity. The power had been gone for a week. Across the Aveyron, more than thirty thousand households were living the same way. We lit candles and let them burn down slowly. The fireplace became the centre of the house, the place we kept coming back to.

Thomas turned on the generator he had bought years ago, never quite expecting to use it. It had always seemed a hopeful purchase. There was a moment of uncertainty, and then it worked. He smiled. It felt like a quiet reminder that even when things don’t go as planned, there is still a way forward. Mostly, though, it meant we could keep the freezers running and heat water from time to time.

WHAT REMAINS UNCHANGED

Tomorrow, we welcome our first retreat guests of the year. The power is back on. They are unlikely to notice much of what has happened. Perhaps they will see fallen trees along the way up, or the damaged giant branches in the ancient cedar park, muddy tire tracks where the tractor and excavator have done their work. The mornings will still be frost-covered. The trees will hold their quiet strength.Their beds will have double duvets, and there will be more candlelight than ever. The fire will still be the centre of the house, and we will drift back to it as we always do, keeping warmth alive in the quiet that follows disruption.

Perhaps this is how the year wanted to begin: grounded, human, and reminding us of what truly matters. For now, the land seems to be resting, gathering itself for what will come next. Even when the world beyond feels close to spinning into potential flames and chaos, I will always choose to go down a path of wonder, hope, and possibility.

Have a beautiful New Year, everybody!