Roaming around the yard with my camera, I couldn't let 2011 go and had to photograph the sunset on New Year's Eve last year. The trees stood fast, casting their sarabande of naked limbs against the sky.
I love how the sun hangs on, throwing all its passionate self into its leavetaking, especially on a day like this, pulling dust, clouds, all shades of the spectrum into its farewell. The brush and limbs weave a tapestry, an embroidery needing no human handiwork.
The dogs at the door way wonder what the heck I'm doing wandering around in the near dark. Have I found a cache of bones, a buried secret, an intruder to chase? Why won't I come back in and scratch their bellies?
I think, too, of the friends we've lost over the past year, caught up now in whatever lies within this glorious light of leavetaking. Patrick Morris, J.P. Holmes, my dear friend Elizabeth's son, too young to be taken away, Harriette's husband Don, Jean Pittillo, Richard's Peggy, so many....
"Walk in the world for us, " they ask. And so in this New Year, we set forth.