Life's little drizzle erased the dreamy holiday meringue we wished for, and a Christmas blizzard seems unlikely. That's characteristic of this season, through which we struggle dazed and harried to get to Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
The good and the bad, the wishes fulfilled and those dashed, the happy and the tragic, all are amplified by Christmas, all touch us somewhere, and the stunning mix of emotions carries us to the heart of Christmas.
Death has claimed some of the best of us, some of the cheeriest and most inspirational, as well as the just plain good, the solid citizens. Illness has flattened some of those we depend upon, sparking us to consider the head tides which sweep away some of us, and the good fortune so many of us enjoy.
This is the poignant moment of the year. Leave aside the glitter and the shopping and overworn imagery. Forget for the moment, the relentless political campaigns, the implacable international enemies, the foolishness of government. Christmas still makes its ancient magic felt by de-scaling us and exposing our lives to life itself.
Although this season especially brings existence to the boil, newspapers by nature are carried along daily in the full flood of human events: births, deaths, tragedies, triumphs, fire, flood, politics, arguments, crabbiness, euphoria. We are exposed to it all. It's the job, and thanks to you, it's a terrific job to have.
So this is the moment, with Christmas finally visible on the horizon, to remember our good fortune, and to wish all of you - readers, customers, newsmakers, neighbors, friends, critics - the merriest of Christmases.