Two thousand sixteen. There's been quite a bit of hubbub about you. Much of the chatter debating or perhaps even proclaiming the given moniker of the worst. year. ever. And there's time for that. Time for the mourning of lost friends, hopes diverted and dreams not yet realised. I have a sneaking suspicion that some themes from this past year will have a reprisal even with the change of calendar. But instead of focusing on what has been and what is to come, I am going to spend some time relishing in the present in my own little place here on earth, acknowledging the grandeur of things greater than myself, gently greeting the new year. I invite you to do the same.

The Peace of Wild Things -- Wendell Berry

When despair grows in me and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.

I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting for their light.

For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Happy New Year, friends!

note:

these photos are from a woodsy stroll we took at anthony's nose the thursday after election day. one of my favorite places to think all the thoughts and feel all the feels should you find yourself needing some perspective.