Snow In The Woods
New Year's Eve is a challenge. To me, I mean. A personal gauntlet thrown down. A direct challenge, from an unknown, unnamed, unseen, belligerent opposition, to me, personally and directly. A challenge to be faced down and dealt with, or to slink away from in ignominious timidity and humiliation.
It was not always this way.
For most of my adult life, New Year's Eve was a sweet, pleasant time of reflection and introspection, shared with my beautiful wife. We spent the evening together in front of a cheery fire, holding hands and talking intimately about the year past, and our hopes and dreams for the year to come. A beautiful, loving time of shared solitude, together. It was our tradition.
But then one year she died, shortly before Christmas, and I was faced with the prospect of spending New Year's Eve alone in our house—her house—talking only to myself. Instead I started a new tradition, one I know she approves of: I run away from home. Every New Year, I run away, and find a place to be alone in Nature, usually in the snow, appropriate to the season, This year, I'm in the Adirondacks, in upstate New York. I'm in a rented cabin outside the village of Saranac Lake, not far from Lake Placid, which some of you might remember as the site of the 1980 Winter Olympics. It is still a site used by some athletes for Olympic training, and today in fact I drove past the iconic ski jump towers. The last time I was in this region of New York was in 2006, on a getaway with my wife for our anniversary. Memories.
The original plan for this New Year’s Day was to hike up Mount Jo. However, a bit of a minor bug affecting my stamina, combined with a bit of a tight hamstring, combined with extreme cold and deep snow, made me think twice about climbing a mountain trail. So I did not get to the peak of Mount Jo. C'est la vie. But I did have a very nice hike around Heart Lake, along the side of the mountain, through glorious pine forest with beautiful scenery. And I do have this image to offer, which I happen to think is lovely. A fallen log protruding through the deep snow, attracted my attention as I slogged along the trail, calling out, "Look at me! Notice me! Am I not beautiful? Do you not see the tender sweetness of my repose, here in the deep snow?"
I saw the beauty. And I know you will see it too.
Happy New Year to everyone. May the coming year bring to us all greater joy and gentler peace than the year we leave behind.
Dona nobis pacem, my friends.