We live in the darkness, sharing our blackened world with troll-like creatures that sneak into our homes. At night, these trolls lick our pots, steal our sausages, slurp our Skyr and leave small gifts for the children. In the waking hours we, like the trolls, creep between one dark spot and another. Instead of crumbs, we search for candles or seek out twinkling holiday lights, or bake with the warm oven, or decorate the house, or do anything we can to make this gloomy world seem even slightly more festive. And too I add to these rituals my personal attempts at battling total hibernation: I drink copious amounts of strong coffee, I bask beside the happy light, and I try to exercise every day, even if it means swimming under a coal-black sky. For now, I’ll raise my glass for tomorrow, when solstice will sit squarely behind us, and each day will draw me out of this shadowy existence and offer a few more moments of light . . .