The snows cover the brick streets of New Babbage. The town is decorated for Christmas. For some, it's the happiest time of the year: a crispness in the air, surrounded by family, celebrating a solemn religious event, anticipating an exchange of gifts.
For others, though, winter is the most melancholy time of the year. We think of family departed, friends and lovers lost, mistakes made. Spring may be the time of rebirth, but winter is the time of endings, of death. A time of reflection.