December Reflections

The extremely mild weather we've been having this time of year has resulted in an unexpected benefit for me, photographically speaking. It means that the local ponds remain unfrozen, and their surfaces are open for business, reflection-wise.

A winter weather event was expected later in the day that would eventually result in rain, ice, freezing rain, and even a tiny bit of thunder and lightning. We had nowhere we had to be, and so we would ride it out in the comfort of our home. But before it all started, my husband and I decided to get some fresh air. So we hiked up the hill to the Scotia Pine Barrens, our local gameland.

The gameland is full of evergreens, and so it is green there any time of year, including now. We looked for beavers but did not see any. I had some fun photographing the reflections of the pines and the carpet of golden orange needles beneath them all.

This is the reflection time. At the year's end, I pause to look back on the days that are fading behind us, the months we have just lived. It is time for the year to end, for us to let it go, and move on to the next year. But first, we stop and remember both the good times and the bad.

For myself, this has been one of the strangest years on record. My oldest sister became very ill in summertime and we thought we might lose her. But she fought, and lived, and proved them all wrong. (And she continues to do so! But she still has a lot of work ahead of her. So please keep all good thoughts coming her way!)

And so we celebrated with her a bonus Christmas that they told us in June she would not get. We were the fortunate ones. Other families were not so lucky, in getting to keep everyone they loved.

I have written about the joy of once again getting to hear the Christmas eve reading of Twas the Night Before Christmas by my parents, age 85; and about the surprise wading expedition my husband and I went on at Lost Creek on Christmas day.

But I did not mention that a second, private wading session occurred after that: reunited at my parents' place, my oldest sister and I celebrated the occasion with a first-ever barefoot Christmas wade in the spring behind their house.

My sister and I chased each other up and down the stream and laughed ourselves silly; and once again, the woods and waters rang with the laughter of barefoot girls. As it is now, as it always shall be, world without end, amen. Yes, it was a strange year. But in the end, I am grateful; and I take none of these gifts for granted.

Here's hoping that your own year-end reflections are made of mostly positive, happy memories, and not sad ones. And so we remember, we celebrate, we reflect, we grieve what we have lost, and we move forward, ever toward the light.

The soundtrack for this image is a song by Natalie Merchant and the 10,000 Maniacs. I'm including two versions, one a live version, and one the official video (warning, the latter one is quite a bit louder than the first). The song is These Are Days.

And I'm including a bonus song for those who may be grieving this time of year. Perhaps you are remembering someone you love whom you have lost. This tune is a favorite and I take comfort from it; I hope you will too. Here are two beautiful voices, Tracy Chapman and Natalie Merchant, with Where The Soul Never Dies.