So, 2024, despite being numerologically pleasing (to me, based on my own private superstitious preferences, which involve even numbers in general and the number four in particular), sucked.

As in any terrible year, there was plenty that was wonderful, including moments woven into (and even intrinsically part of) the horrible parts — the terrible/beautiful of it all. (But not the politically horrible stuff, that was 100 percent rotten). I thought I'd make a list of some highlights from the year:

• Further development of my positive relationships with crows in my neighborhood (ask me about my peanut budget).
• 2024, Year of the Rabbit(s), aka Year of the Backyard Bun.
• The Northern Lights at last!
• I read 97 books — in 2023 I only read 37 — and watched 38 movies.
• Countless beautiful loaves of sourdough bread were created in my kitchen.
• I got marginally braver about flying? (at least very short flights!) I flew to North Carolina eight times in 2024, which means I got myself on an airplane SIXTEEN times.
• Puffins, little cartoon birds as seen through binoculars from a boat bobbing wildly in the churning ocean, with Stella and Ben and Mark: none of us seasick.
• I dug so many holes in the ground and planted so many plants in the holes, and saw tiny seedlings turn into green, leafy, gloriously flowering plants.

Some of my plans for 2025:

• I intend to wash my windows this year. They are so grubby.
• Plant more plants!
• Bake more bread.
• Keep getting on airplanes.
• Visit Canada.
• Replace more Instagram time with book-reading time.
• Cook biryani and yakisoba and okonomiyaki and tiramisu and pupusas.

Also keep taking deep breaths.

Buttermilk sky

 

I love you, Wikipedia.

Wouldn't it be amazing if I could capture my own mackerel sky photo to go along with the above? I see this once every ten days or so (in fact, I just noticed it a couple of days ago on a walk with Mark and Clover) and it's one of my favorite skies, but I never had a name for it before. It's also known as buttermilk sky. Or ciel moutonné in France (fleecy sky) and Schäfchenwolken in Germany (sheep clouds). Fish scales, milk curds, curls of wool.

What an exciting few days, post-fully-vaccinated-day. On that exact day I greeted my oldest, best friend at the door of my house and then hugged her. My tears surprised me! She cried too! That was one of the best hugs of my whole life. And then just a couple of hours later, I went to the Jetport and watched reunions, crying again as I observed parents gathering their young adult daughter (I assume) into their arms, the mom and daughter sobbing audibly as they held each other. I was actually at the airport to meet one of my two beloved brothers, and it was fitting that there were already tears rolling down my face when he appeared. Just talking, indoors, masks off, with people I love who I haven't seen in person for so long, is wonderful and exhausting! 

Melissa came by for tea yesterday. We sat together and chatted and drank our tea. So normal! Like the Before Times! When she was leaving, she said, "You know what happens now, right?" And I got to have another one of those hugs.*

*Warning: I may have become a person who boo-hoos every time I'm hugged. I'm fine with it if you are.

The Martian

Space movies make me
anxious. I liked the red sand
and the botany!

Fifth

The day started like this:

An ordinary morning, driving Isaac to school while he serenaded me with Danny Brown. But there was the funniest little spot of rainbow in the sky (see the center of this photo, above that middle tree. It's not on the windshield, it's in the sky). Ahh, I wish I got a better picture of it, but I was, um, driving the car. Also, look at that pretty poof of smoke or whatever in the street. What a magical photograph!

Then Gus and I strolled around Mackworth Island, where the sky looked like this (above).

Gus watched chipmunks for quite a while. I imagined that it was our own private island. This morning I was thinking, "Today I like trees better than people," but tonight Mark and I went to vote and I loved (almost) everyone there.

There are years that ask questions and years that answer.

Look up!

There's almost always something beautiful going on in the sky. This final day of 2012 is bright and cold, clouds swirling and whirling around, the snow brilliant and satisfying to crunch your boots in. You know what I love about my puppy? He watches birds flying across the sky, especially seagulls and these pigeons that like to roost on the roof of the big old empty school building in my neighborhood.

Oh, who am I kidding? I could never list all the things I love about this dog. I mean, he shoveled the entire driveway by himself, and he's only almost-eight-months old. And a dog.

But seriously, he rode fifteen+ hours in a car with my dad, Lulu the hound, and me for Christmas In Carolina '12, did not bark in the motel room (at least not on the way down there--coming home was a different story, but it was the fault of the people in the room next to us coming and going all night long), and once at my brother's house in Chapel Hill, he worked hard to get along with the other dogs (there were four all together), and only chewed up a few toys (a tiny plastic dog; an expensive wooden car).

Gus's little cousin Charlie. Gus loved him so much.

Charlie likes to wrestle as much as Gus does.

Miles doesn't.

Okay, yes, there were humans there too: so many humans! My favorite humans on the planet, in fact.

Oh, family. I am so lucky when it comes to my wonderful sweet family, and I love every minute of the time we are together. But I'm also guilty of that thing you do where you start missing people while you're still with them, you know? Don't do this, friends, don't start getting sad and nostalgic for something that's still with you.  There will be plenty of time to miss them later.

Okay, 2013. Let's see what you've got for us. 2012 was another prickly one, and in my case it's ending on a mixed note (symbolically, our furnace died today, although see above, re: the sky). I am a ridiculous optimist, so I see great things ahead in this new year of ours. My only resolution so far is to read Proust, though. I'm looking forward to a year of reading, writing, movie and TV-watching, dog walks and Maine exploring, happy kids, healthy eating, laughing with friends, adventures small and maybe even large.