Here we are again in the solemn wintry fields going down to the lake. It's the last day of December. Deep blue snow blankets everything around us, trees, shrubs and weeds poking forth from the drifts in glassy chiming array.
There's sunshine and blue sky, clouds of spangled snow blowing like confetti across everything and coming to rest on whatever they meet on their journey - one can actually hear the snow flying about. There's a wild enchantment in the cold air. The last day of the calendar year rings like bells and dances in ecstatically in place.
Here on the vanished path are our footprints from yesterday and the day before and the day before that, possibly even from last year at this time. The land remembers. How often have we come here and just stood listening to falling snow and the sweep of the north wind across the shore?
Happy New Year to you and your kin. May all good things come to you.