This clock was laying in the yard of a boarded up house. I think it is an accurate image for this year, one in which time seems to be an afterthought most days. Tossed aside, as there are few places we need to be going, and little to be on time for. Here we are, just passed the eleventh hour, beyond the reach of spring, summer and nearly autumn. There is a different feel in the air, less a holiday one than a “what’s next” mood. It seems the whole year has been one odd, unexpected, bizarre thing after another. But are we ready for 2021, are we really?