The Light of a New Year

As twilight settled on the evening of the 31st, I lit two luminaries to light the path for the new year.  They burned brightly through the night as T, JT, and I played card games, listened to a playlist of music curated by the boy, and laughed together.

The laughter was especially nice.  

As T and I prepared to climb the stairs and tuck into bed, JT told us that if someone had told him at the start of the year that 2020’s last day would be spend in our company instead of with his friends, he would not have embraced that news.  Then he told us that the evening felt good and right; that’s he’d had a good time with is and wouldn’t have spent it any other way.

In a 2020 that brought fear and uncertainty, that found the three of us being cooped up for months and occasionally feeling a little too close with one another, my son was on the mark in that observation.  In this year of so much loss, I will be forever glad of the extra time to watch him grow up far more than just one year signifies.  The last night of 2020 was a good one for counting my blessings as we looked to the light.

Old Man Tree; January 1

There was a nearly full moon in the night sky for New Year’s Eve.  Late in the night, we stepped outside in the still cold air to admire the moon and, in my case, to ask for its blessing on the new year to come.  Things didn’t stay quiet for long as my neighbors let off fireworks and generally gave release to the tensions and fears of 2020, welcoming 2021 with cheers and laughter.  The celebrations were joyous as we all faced forward to 2021.

I welcome this year with open arms and hope, even a tentative confidence, that we can rise above the ignorance and fears that have characterized the last four years.  We need to do better; indeed we must.  The load to be lifted is heavy but I have confidence that we will come together and try anew to be the shining city on the hill that we must work toward becoming.  

In the spirit of this hope and to welcome the start of each month in 2021, I will post pictures of Old Man Tree, the giant red oak that lives in my backyard and daily frames my view of the world outside my door.  Today he presides over the snacks we’ve left out for the backyard wildlife.

I love this tree, which is one of the oldest red oaks in my county.  The arborist who keeps Old Man Tree healthy and well believes that the tree is more than 130 years old.  He’s seen a lot, this tree, and he endures, steadfast and strong through the storms of this world.  His continued health is my responsibility.  I take that seriously.  

He got a new face last month and like all of us in Sassafras House looks for a new year with hope.  There is much to be learned from this tree that bears witness to our lives.  I intend to do just that in the coming year.  

Sending Out 2020

I won’t be the only person who is glad to say goodbye to this year.  I almost wrote dumpster fire of a year because, of course, it has been that.  At that same time, so many people lost their lives in this year of years and it seems callow to dismiss the passage of this time when so many people and families have lost someone for whom time truly has passed forever.  I am profoundly grateful for my blessings in this year and I hope that I will always be able to see that light in the darkness that is 2020.

As 2020 fades into 2021, I am glad of so very much: My family and friends and our ability to laugh together; the blessings of jobs that put food on our table and give us a chance to make the world better than we found it; the harbor of walks in the woods and stacks of good books to be read.  I am incredibly grateful to be here as 2020 fades into 2021.  With that gratitude is a brightly burning hope that 2021 brings us more of the things that make life good: steady, kind, and measured leadership; the promise of science and a vaccine; and enough laughter and good will to see us through the hard times.  For all the storm that 2020 has been, I have hope that this nation and this world will safely steer into a safer harbor for 2021.  And so, as I have done so many times, I live in hope for us all as we say hello to a new year.

December Book Report: Christmas Stories

When I was truly able to settle into Winter Break, I pulled out three holiday books to read.  Two of them, the books by Miss Read and Alice Taylor, are long-standing holiday favorites.  Reading them is a tradition that I look forward to and always enjoy.  The third, a mystery by Georgette Heyer, was new to me.  I read them all at once for the days before Christmas and they were a happy pause from the real world. 

Books are my comfort and joy in all times and that has especially been the case in this difficult year when there was extra time to read even as I had a greater need than usual to be comforted by good stories.   I am always grateful for the power of the written word and this year that was especially true.

December’s Light

For most of 2020, I have appreciated the beauty of the sky as the day transitions.  In both the early morning and the twilight, there have been days and days with stunning light to behold.  I’ve taken the time to soak it on whenever I see it.

I don’t know if this year’s skies have actually been extra lovely or the fact that I’ve been home much more often to see it, but the light in the sky has often been a balm in this hard year.  

For me, light like this has a way of putting even the biggest of anxieties into perspective.  I hope that when life returns to whatever form the new normal will take, I remember to pause and appreciate this beauty when it shows itself.

That’s happy!

Your Weekly Amaryllis: Just Planted

For Christmas, T gave me an amaryllis bulb from Burpee Seed Company.  It is one of my most favorite traditions to plant this flower in the cold and dark Winter season.  I planted this year’s bulb yesterday.  It sits among the happy plants in the Southeast window, where it will soak up all the morning sunlight that comes along.  

And now we wait.

I watch the bulb daily, always mindful that this stark season is the only way forward to flowers, green grass, and the Summer Solstice light that will be all the more welcome for its comparative shortage during the Winter season.  

The amaryllis bulb isn’t just for marking time while I daydream about the arrival of Spring.  It reminds me to pause and appreciate this cozy season.  And in this time when so much of what seems normal is on pause, I am grateful and glad to have this usual tradition at hand.  

Just Start Somewhere

This blog has fallen behind in the last few months and as 2021 is squarely in my sights, it’s time for me to get a plan about whether this project goes on a more official hiatus.  I love writing here and over the years, it’s been a place to store pictures; memories, both happy and sad; observations and thoughts; and the details of my world.  It’s a reflection of my story and organizing and planning posts has always provided me with happiness.

Falling behind in 2020 is practically the perfect reflection of this unthinkable year.  While I’ve made the call not to be angry with myself for falling behind, I’ve also realized that I need to make a decision for moving forward.  At first, my thought was that I would move forward while also filling in from behind.  I tried this approach in October and November and that turned out to be an undertaking that teaching during a pandemic could not sustain.

And so I am at a crossroads: will I pause this project or seek to resume it, with my posting flaws on full display?  Helping disorganized middle schoolers to take command of their work is a big part of my job these days and when a child finds herself buried under pile of half-finished assignments I always advise them to just start somewhere and then keep moving.  Doing nothing, I point out, is not working.  Making a start is at least something.

It’s good advice and so today I am taking my own advice to just find a start.  I may complete and fill in postings from earlier in the year; I may not.  I will try to write on a regular basis in the coming year.  I start anew as this unthinkable year comes to a close, aware that there is likely a metaphor in that alone.  I start with the the hope that on a daily basis I can find the time to turn the thoughts I have into posts that are a meaningful snapshot of my life.  

It’s a start.

Making Merry

We had a quiet but happy Christmas.  The tree was lovely, as Christmas trees always seem to be.  Santa paid us a visit and filled our stockings.

There was a Christmas feast.

We talked with family, laughed together, and counted our many blessings in this most difficult of years.  Merry Christmas, y’all!

The Faint Light Ahead

The Pfizer vaccine has received emergency FDA approval and distribution in the United States will begin this weekend.  The Moderna vaccine is expected to follow within two weeks.  

The amount of hope that this news brings is hard for me to quantify.  Thanks to a complete absence of national leadership, the pandemic is worse than ever in the U.S. at this moment.  We are averaging one million new cases a day; deaths are approaching 1,000 a day.  In New Jersey, with a population just below 9 million, things are better but we are struggling as well, with somewhere between four and six thousand new cases each day.

There is still a long and dark Winter before us but this vaccine news feels like a faint but steady light at the end of a very long tunnel. 

Frontyard Flowerbed in December

Winter has taken hold around here, as it was bound to do,  and the flowerbed has been cleaned out for the season.  While I did that, I planted a couple dozen bulbs.

I’ve a lot riding on the Spring of 2021: actual leadership in this nation, prospects of a vaccine to fight this horrible pandemic, the usual joys of longer days and warmth.  And now we’ll have some extra crocus, daffodil, and tulip flowers to admire.  That's happy!