“In order to see birds it is necessary to become a part of the silence.” ― Robert Lynd
So, here we are again. One chapter in the book of life ending, another beginning. I always look forward to a new year. Part of it is the unmitigated relief of having made it through the holidays without committing a felony; but also, there’s an unspoken promise of recommencement. The aura of renewal and the endless possibilities of what may come, beckon me like a moth to a flame.
It’s all illusion, of course. Logic dictates that there is no real difference between the end of one year, and the beginning of the next; no earth shattering kaboom; no sparkling fairy awaiting the stroke of midnight to sprinkle a handful of pixie dust on our heads, magically erasing twelve months of poor choices and lost opportunities. It’s just another day, like any other.
But to hope is to be human. A new year ushers in a sense of liberation and emancipation, and gives us permission to let go of our past and embrace the future. This is a concept I readily espouse. Although, I find that in order to completely move forward, I must first reflect.
It was a productive year, albeit exhausting. What did I do, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you.
This year I:
- continued my foray into the mysterious world of geology, tried my hand at a little field work, and discovered I should leave it to the professionals.
- participated in April’s Camp NaNoWriMo and won, exceeding my 25K word goal by nearly 5K. Of course, I haven’t let a single word written during that month to see the light of day. I shuddered at the very thought.
- embraced a dairy-free diet. My stomach and I get along much better these days.
- spent the long Memorial weekend with the BFF and her family, exploring South Padre Island. There’s nothing quite so relaxing as a beautiful beach, good company, and jug of margaritas.
- discovered – and conquered – statistics. Did you know that sometimes in statistics, p’s and q’s wear hats? Crazy, yet oddly adorable.
- learned that I’m too old to frolic on New Orleans’ Bourbon Street. It’s a task best left to the degenerate youth. I did, however, have a wonderful time celebrating the BFF’s milestone birthday in the city she loves.
- took a step toward tackling my fear of being eaten by a bear while camping. No, I didn’t go camping in bear infested woods. That’s just stupid. I did go hiking for the first time, though. And loved it. Maybe next time I will forego the hotel in town and stay in a cabin by the lake. Yeah, right.
While my writing was somewhat sporadic after Camp NaNoWriMo, I did take quite a few photos. In the spirit of the coming year, and in an effort to toast 2013, here are a few.
A rare thing happened here in my corner of Texas. We were gifted with a mild July. Usually by this point in summer, the dreaded dome of high pressure has firmly planted itself over the region, deftly deflecting any wayward “cold fronts” and pushing the mercury over the century mark. But this year, we have had unseasonably cool temperatures – afternoon highs in the high eighties and low nineties with morning lows in –*gasp*– the sixties.
It was almost like autumn.
So, what do you do when you are treated to fabulous weather in the middle of the summer? Go to the Arboretum and take pictures of bugs, of course.
On a sad note: It seems August will not be unseasonably cool. Today’s high: 103.