The calendar settles into a soft corner today. The hours seem to ask less of you and offer more in return. Accept the offer. Keep your movements gentle. Speak in the volume of a library. Place comfort in reach of those you share space with and let the room do what good rooms do.
Light a small candle if you keep such things. Fold a blanket over the back of a chair. Arrange the cups where hands can find them without looking. Make a short list of what truly must happen and let the rest wait until the world wakes up again.
The gift of a quiet eve is not only rest. It is the sense that care can be simple and near. You do not need to plan an entire season to make a day feel whole. A chair, a warm drink, a kind line, and the willingness to stop a little earlier than usual. That is enough.