So Close….

(totally irrelevant photo – my drive to work from a year ago.  no snow this year.)

 

…to the holiday.

…to the end of the year.

…to some mysterious third thing.

It’s just after midnight.  House is quiet.  Dogs are asleep.  Furnace blower is blowing.  Refrigerator has a rather strange gurgle.  Did I say the house was quiet? In lot of senses it is.

I’m in one of those wanting to write, but not really having anything to say moods.  I could pile up some details of my days but I don’t really feel like it.  I could write about the past… things I find here in my magically returned old diary.  I could plan a future for the next year and the ones that will follow.

I could write about books.  New ones.  Old ones.  Library loans.  Holiday indulgences.  Good books.  Disappointing ones.  Ones I wish I’d written.  Ones I wish I’d read.

I could write about food.  Cookies and dips.  White chocolate covered pretzels – store bought, I’m too lazy to even dip pretzels.  Diet soda.  The pork loin in the fridge waiting for its oven.  The non-dairy whipped topping waiting to combine with pineapple and oranges and marshmallows.  The gift boxes of cheese a-chill waiting for New Year’s Day.

The set of mystery presents that are wrapped and under my bed.  They will either be hits or misses or somewhere in between.  Where do heirloom come from anyway?  The basket of game prizes that may or may not be distributed.  Does anyone play Canasta anymore?  Did anyone ever?

Tell me what you want.  Tell me what I want.  None of it matters.  We get what we get.  We want what we want.  The intersection between want and get can be very brief.  And it does not matter.  Not in the long run.  And very little in the short run.

We chase moods around.  Good ones.  Bad ones.  Holiday ones.  Everyday ones.  We catch them, tackle them to the ground and knock out their breath.  We let them get away, while we stand and watch them disappear over the next hill.

 

Talking hills…

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I went for my figure eight walk today.  I went down to the creek and crossed on the ice below the crossing the tractor has broken the ice in its path.  I walked around the bean field and up the road tot the clearing and then around the clearing.  The clearing had corn this year but it’s not super hard walking.  Coming down the road from the clearing I picked up an armful of small wood for the furnace and then finished the trip around the bean field and came back across the creek  and then back home – gauging elevation because of the wood burden and the burden of getting my own self home.

Weather was nice – nice for the day before the day before Christmas.  The dogs were with my son.  It was strange to be walking without them.  Ok though in that it was quiet and I enjoyed the peace.

I had a pile of wood waiting outside the cellar door.  Twenty two trips down and up the steps .  That felt tood too.  Pacheful except for the heavy breathing.

So that’s my day.  Not all of it.  But parts of it.