This morning dawned gray and subdued, streetlamps shining on wet streets, sun hidden. A quiet morning, and an oddly settled and grounded one, few cars on the streets, rain drops splattering the windshield. Not the desert’s usual welcoming of the new year, but a right and true enough one.
Whatever the new year means to you (my own new year began in September, and yet this feels like a new year too, in different ways), hope it’s true and right and joyous too.
That sounds lovely, the snow and the accountability without the pressure of “resolutions.”
A very happy new year to you, too.
Today the snow on the eastern mountains was briefly sunlit as white as Gandalf the White’s robes. I’m setting goals instead of resolutions, and sharing them with my writers’ group to make them accountable. Happy New Year’s to you and yours.
Patches of blue sky are poking through now. Gray never lasts long here. Once the clouds lift, I expect there’ll be snow visible on the mountains.