We made it through the longest night of the year with a dusting of snow and a gusting wind that seemed to mirror the recent upheaval of violence in nature and culture. We marked the passage of the winter solstice with feasting and dancing with friends around the warm hearth of community. According to the Mayans, the slate is wiped clean. What will we write on it now? With all the pressing issues at hand, a simple thought comes to mind. Now that the light is returning, will my chickens start laying again?