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Once More We Begin Again


I'm not superstitious, per se, but I do adore rituals and traditions. Introvert that I am, the new year excites me almost more than Christmas, because it means I get to set my little world in order and start afresh (in case you hadn't guessed, I am not attending a loud, sparkly, staying-up-late party this evening).

So I spent my day in a spree of cleaning and organizing and cooking (we're having lots of company over the weekend, Christmas remnants). I hung our new calendar (the last step of the cleaning phase), reorganized the mood board that hangs over my desk (a yearly tradition since I first got it when I was a teenager), and read the letter I wrote to myself at the end of last year. Later I'll write a letter for next year, once I've decided what I want to say (after all, there's a lot of weight in writing something that will be worth reading a whole year later).


It's been a big year, with a lot of change (really, though, can't that be said of almost every year?) - but the majority of it has stood out as good. There have been so many gifts - provision, reassurance, community, rest, growth, friendship, renewal... and I'm looking forward to whatever adventures the next year holds for us!

Gifts...
2273. An hour's chatting over tea with Cathy
2274. Tobin sweetly and contentedly playing while I inadvertently took a nap on the couch
2275. The amaryllis growing 18" in one week
2276. An exceptionally good very-early issue of Mary Jane's Farm, and time to read it
2277. An off day improving
2278. Going through a real estate flyer with Adam, circling houses we liked

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