Rituals

I grew up in the small town of Oban, tucked into a bay, topped by an idiosyncratic round tower built by a local philanthropist and never finished. The town snuggles into a nook created by the Morvern hills, and the high rump of Mull, protected from the wilder storms that whip over the Atlantic.

Sunrise at Ghost Ranch

As a child, New Year or Hogmanay as we called it, was kept meticulously. I remember huddling by the windows in our lounge with my brothers, our breath misting the cold glass as we listened for the foghorns to sound. At the ‘bells’, as the new year opened, all the boats and ferries gathered in the bay and sounded their horns, before returning to the harbour to join the revellers spilling out of the pubs in various states of inebriation.

Our house was ready then for first footers, the neighbours that came by that night or later in the coming days (Hogmanay spills well into the new year, with everything closed at least until the 3rd of January). Your first foot should bring good luck for the year ahead, sustenance and flavour, whisky or fruit cake or a bottle of wine. My mother carefully maintained a range of party snacks for the guests – dates stuffed with golden marzipan and topped with a glacé cherry, tiny sausage rolls. A dusty glass of port.

My first year away from home, celebrating New Year with my then fiancé and a group of his friends at the Oregon coast, I was horrified when people started tailing off to bed at 9pm. While I was grateful for the lack of hangover on the 1st, I could not help but feel cheated out of a true ritualistic beginning of the year.

Last night we brought in 2025 in our home in New Mexico. I don’t know yet what the traditions are here, so we made some of our own. I borrowed Zozobra’s ‘glooms’ and we all wrote our pain points from 2024 on pieces of paper, read them aloud, then threw them into the fire. After we finished, my eldest son shook himself and said it felt like taking a cool shower.

We stood on our freezing adobe porch and stared at stars that yelled at us from the past. We stayed awake! Only just, to hear nothing but the faraway yelp of coyotes.

No fireworks, no foghorns, no sound at all to welcome 2025. Just silence, peace, and beauty.