Outside Three Oaks, Michigan, a roadside building formerly occupied by a famous local butcher. The Drier’s butcher shop is still thriving at its in-town location, which was built sometime around the Civil War.
We decided to go out for a late-night constitutional. We ended up walking farther than we intended to.
We gazed at the house with satisfaction and pride. In our mind’s eye, we could see the house over the decades, when it was a scrawnier thing without plantings, lightless, without terraces. We could recall hours, days, and weeks there spent profitably or wildly; many others that sped or dragged past without our doing anything.
We could recall the house’s previous inhabitants, a father dead, a mother still living, wild children who once ran naked on the beach or played with firecrackers, who played tricks on one another, who are now well grown, some with children and even grandchildren of their own. How the house had evolved in the middle of it all, how it had changed and become more beautiful, even during our brief tenure!
And now, with the snow, it was changing still!
We marveled at the unfamiliarity of familiar things, which the snow, falling thickly, was transforming. We gazed at the old evergreens appreciatively, their boughs weighed with newness, however evanescent: it was all so beautiful, the light, the heavy shapes, the feathery azaleas in between. We felt the old excitement of being out in the snow. Being out in the snow at night was more magical still.
For the night was charged with energy. Every house around the neighborhood was charged with it, the ground, trees, and dwellings all united with the same current. All the sudden, our eyes had adjusted to the night, and we were dazzled with the perfect beauty of our surroundings.
What is New Year’s about after all? For a moment all nature seemed charged with new possibility, with mystery. Our walk around the block suddenly crackled and shone with drama, with a strangeness so wonderful it was almost unnerving.
New Year’s is more than the hands of a clock or a midnight kiss. It is wilder than the wildest party, this thing we call the future, that we rush to meet, that unfolds within the bounds of a world that we tell ourselves we know already. Happy New Year, we say; but what will it be?
Thank you, everyone, for visiting and keeping me company during this, my first full year of blogging. (I think this is my 375th post but WordPress tells me this is day 365.)
I have enjoyed sharing my everyday thoughts and hearing from you–may the circle be unbroken.
With every good wish,
A week ago yesterday, I bought these tulips at the outdoor farmers’ market, and enjoyed them for a day. Then we went to Michigan for the weekend, had some amazing adventures there, and by the time we got home Barbara and Krystina had thrown the tulips away. Because by that time they were dead, I am sure.
So it has been, more generally, with our spring. Slow to arrive (and with the temperature today still little better than fifty), the season came and went all too swiftly. The leaves are all out on the trees, the daffodils and tulips are spent, and Memorial Day is upon us–all suggestions that we are on the verge of summer. Yet I wish I could have enjoyed my tulips just a little longer.
Creatures enjoying their place in creation.
Here we are, waiting for the next new thing.
Happy New Year, everyone!
Click image to enlarge.