thankful that I'm living rurally and there won't be loud noises to scare the dog and cat and keep me up.
I honor the new year on the solstice, which is truly the turning point in my year; knowing that I've survived the dark to that point, and that the light will be returning. That's a literal concern, as well as metaphorical and spiritual. I don't see my 6 acres or horses or chickens or sheep in the light of day all week long, and generally only have 1+ days a week I'm at home during daylight to see to the place. I look forward to the return of the light, and the chance to see home, and do barn chores, with the sun.
I don't have a particular ritual for solstice, but I try to have the winter cleaning done by then. That day, I'll keep a fire burning, use some essential oil in the pot of water on the wood stove, and dive into making gifts for friends and family; usually with my grandson. If there is time, we'll also make ornaments, or bake cookies, or make gingerbread, or play board games, or read stories, listen to winter music, any of the above that we can fit in. It's a quiet celebration. We talk of how the year has gone, what our hopes are for the coming year.
Sometimes I do this by myself, sometimes with my grandson. When my sons were growing up, we did the same together, and decorated the living tree that would be planted out doors on the 26th.
The calendar year? I don't notice it, other than sternly reminding myself to write the new year when I write the date.
This year it was suggested that I stop by my son's and spend some time with his family, which I may do. Of course, I'll have to be home in daylight for barn chores and because I liked to be home, done, and cozy by sundown.