Six years ago I found myself standing at the edge of a small lake that’s adjacent to the wetlands. It was sunset on New Year’s Eve and music was wafting through the air from a house up in the woods somewhere. I have no idea what drew me there at that particular time on that particular day. Probably a whim. I’m big on following my whims. More often that not, they lead me to grand discoveries.
That year, I discovered that the sun set right behind that stand of trees across the lake. I have come back here on the eve of every new year since.
I come early this year because the sky is cozied up in its thick, deep clouds and if I wait until sunset, the daylight will have melted away completely. As it turns out, the clouds break up a bit as I drive to the little lake, dappling the sky and thinning to let the sun’s brilliance shine through.
I spot the little turn-off up ahead and feel my face smile as I pull over and step from my car. A flock of fifty or so Canadian geese float along the lake’s north shore, silent as can be, hardly moving, The lake is calm and still. I spend a handful of timeless moments mesmerized by it all, my camera inhaling one view after another.
I decide to drive down some back roads when I leave the lake, delighted by the colors and light that came with this unexpected break in the clouds. Finding a spot where I can pull off, I park and walk up the road photographing the terrain, the vast stretches of rolling corn fields, the stubble from the harvest glowing golden in the afternoon light.
I am humbled, as I often am when the sky is the bringer of joy. It reminds me that even the darkest clouds are transient, and that beyond them, joy remains. Eternally.
When I pass the little lake on my way home, I find it shrouded in a dim haze. The glimpse of light had been just that, a glimpse. Now the sky would wrap the quickly waning year in its mists and carry it off to The Lands of When.
Farewell, 2021. Farewell.
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