January 1st, 2021


A year is a long time.

When you've been around for quite a few of 'em, and, say, winter rolls around again, or Spring, it's easy to be fooled by how well we know this new thing, how familiar; surely it wasn't long ago we were welcoming the first short-sleeve day, or reluctantly telling the cats we can't leave the windows open all day, or all night, or both.

But, I mean, maybe this long long not-even-a-year since staying home, tho---  maybe it seems even longer than it's been, since it was quite a while before that that I was last having people over, letting people in.

The trick is in not caring.  But caring is necessary for healing.

Enough of that hot air, how'ever.  Here's the main year-end card I sent out this year:

It's from my window, during the polar vortex of what I thought was maybe '18 or '17, but turns out it was '19.

A year is a long time.