Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known.
There is something out here on the edge of the hill that is longing to be known, or at least recognized and acknowledged, but the day is too cold to linger and entertain arty, puckish or deep thoughts - I could not grasp a pen, a pencil or a sketchbook if my life depended on it. The camera, on the other hand, is clear of eye and lens and unwavering in its commitment. It touches and dwells on every tump of snow and burnished blade of wintry grass, every snow wrapped spruce and floating cloud of golden sundown light.
That is what I would like this brand squeaky clean new year to be all about, just showing up and being fully present when I get here, loving what I see and not imposing my own expectations, my mediocrity and my feeble preconceptions on what is already perfect.