I have long held the superstition that the way you celebrate New Year's portends the year ahead.
Last night it rained. Big, fat, soaking, dam-raising, tank-filling rain. Lightning danced across the sky, lighting up the world as if it were day, and thunder echoed in the sky for so long, it sounded like an ocean tumbling past. We watched the clouds roll in from the West, while in the North-East, in a patch of clear sky, hung a huge round silver moon - a blue moon, the second full moon of the month.
Before the rain, in the pendulous, sultry heat, my children played under a sprinkler for the very first time. And in the dark, just before a fine mist frothed into the air, there were sparklers.
At midnight, a frog came to see the four of us as, climbing up the fly-wire door we sat drinking our last glass of wine. The children had just fallen asleep.
A quick google confirms what I already suspected. Frogs are a symbol of luck, fertility and transformation. Frogs also signify healing and prosperity.
I felt the universe flow through me last night, a quick ripple. There's something on the horizon, a kind of magic, something to do with friendship, love, peacefulness and hope.
Mark my words.