We burned the trees. I know, we should save them until Epiphany (Jan. 6) but they had their own plans and basically shed so many needles by the time the lights were unwound that I could shovel mine off the floor. There is something elemental about a bonfire in January– with hot dogs and marshmallows on the beach. This is how northern people have welcomed the New Year, or banished the darkness, since before Christmas was Christmas.
Yesterday we went back to the pool for early bird laps and mid-morning kiddie swims. What with the rain and ice and long break and being a new year full of healthy resolutions, it was crowded. Sarah taught a yoga class up on the balcony and it was hot and noisy in the way yoga usually isn’t. Ellen, who used to be Sarah’s gym teacher back in the day, couldn’t get over how “unique and different” a loud yoga class is, overlooking children splashing and lap swimmers.I loved the whole scene. I hadn’t been to the pool since Dec. 23, and skipped my morning pedals in the house too– ( the baby was awake earlier than I was every day, and it was good for my heart to sit with him and JJ and later Eliza by the tree’s twinkle lights in the dark, you know?) To slow down and take the time to visit.
Today it’s calm and gray and not too cold. Ella and I cleaned out the greenhouse (I know, I delayed a bit too long), and swept the sauna so they can use it, and Christian and the boys are splitting next winter’s firewood and going to the museum this afternoon to have a tour with Christian’s old friend Zack who works there. I’m on the radio this afternoon, Teddy is back at Headstart, and school for the other cousins begins tomorrow. Chip is at the lumberyard all day. My sister is on her way to Mexico.
I’m loving this still- pretty- full house, and trying not to be sad that it won’t last much longer.
I know I should have a resolution, or five but I don’t. Maybe I’ll clean the garage. Maybe I’ll write a book. By this time next year the cabin in Tenakee will be done. I wonder what is next, what will change by this time next year? I like the line from Rilke that everyone quotes at New Year’s about welcoming the year ahead — “full of things that have never been, full of work that has never been done.” I am looking forward to those surprise things and to that new work– or play. Often the difference is in the way you see the world, isn’t it? I had thought cleaning and organizing the greenhouse was work, Ella thought it was fun. She called the mossy, faded, dried flower- arrangement-scene inside “magical” so I didn’t compost them. We tidied up around them instead.
