Up on the freeway the trucks and cars are rumbling in a constant staccato of action. A vibrato of commerce. A tremolo of transportation. So at least at the moment the superficial appearance is one of vigor and normalcy.
Dad is sleeping off a nice lunch of Burger King. Mom has run to Rogue River to get the mail and run a few other minor errands.
Up on Fielder Mountain, fog banks, cloud shadows and sunlight are playing tag amidst the rocks, shrubs, trees and ridge lines. Craggy cliffs emerge and vanish in the play of light and mist.
In our fields the birds and mice scurry diligently to fill their bellies with the remnants of our farming. We bring so much life into the world with our labors. Rodents, small birds, assorted small to medium birds of prey, turkeys, crows, geese, cats, opossum, fox, raccoon, insects, and lizards. Every year their numbers increase and they spread out, filling the empty places in the land.
The New Year is a time of reflection, opportunity, and peril. Best to be alert in all three cases.
Happy New Year, everybody.